


Dulce Periculum

by wewillalwaysenduphere



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Scorpia (Alex Rider), Slow Burn, The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 61,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewillalwaysenduphere/pseuds/wewillalwaysenduphere
Summary: Once Yassen Gregorovich had handed SCORPIA over to his heir Alex Rider, he vanished from the stage of international crime.Yassen had amassed enough money and power to buy his freedom. He had built himself a dacha outside of St. Petersburg that was more a fortress than a home.He can hide from the world, various intelligence agencies, and his former allies.Until his past comes calling.Based on pongnosis' amazing "The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea"(In case you haven't read it, there's a short summary in chapter 1 so you can still read this story.)
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 184
Kudos: 184





	1. Digging Up Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pongnosis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pongnosis/gifts), [galimau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galimau/gifts).



> Dedicated to pongnosis and galimau, who are amazingly talented and have welcomed me into this fandom with open arms.  
> They have also allowed me to expand on their own amazing stories.  
>   
> This story is mostly based on [The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10222295/chapters/22682429) by pongnosis, but it also considers [Pyrrhic Victories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22187812) and [Closer Contact](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154785?view_adult=true) by galimau canon.
> 
> Here's a summary, in case you haven't read The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea:
> 
> In The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea, Yassen approaches Alex after the events of Skeleton Key. He offers him to be his apprentice at SCORPIA and Alex agrees. Alex gets trained by Yassen and then graduates from Malagosto, becoming Yassen’s preferred mission partner. When Yassen gets tapped to join the Executive Board of SCORPIA, he knows his plans to retire in peace have become useless, since there is no retirement from the executive board. To avoid being stuck with SCORPIA forever, he and Alex plan to overthrow the board and seize control of SCORPIA themselves. They are largely successful, only Dr. Three finds out about their plan, and he joins them under the condition that he can retire peacefully as well. Three retires when Alex is nineteen, at which point Yassen becomes the sole head of SCORPIA. When Alex turns twenty-five, Yassen hands SCORPIA over to him and retires himself. This story starts a few months after Alex has taken control of SCORPIA.
> 
> Sagitta is Alex’s preferred combat team and also his personal security. The team consists of Marcus, the leader, Adams, his second in command, and Mace, Ivey, Aranda, Jarek and Shale.  
> Crux is a Malagosto graduate Alex worked with during DDBS. 
> 
> And that’s it! You’re good to go! :)

The dacha about two hours from St. Petersburg looked just like Alex had expected it to – and the fact he had become this good at anticipating Yassen’s behavior made a bit of pride well up inside him.

Although _dacha_ might be too small a word to properly describe the sprawling villa, with carefully cultivated lawns in front of it, and the wild forest behind. Yassen would like that, Alex thought, an easy way to escape if necessary. He would bet his life there were weapons stashed away a few kilometers into these woods, a passport and some money. Yassen had effectively disappeared, but he hadn’t become lazy.

Alex’s car – a white Mercedes, B7 armor – stopped just in front of the gates. There were two guards, not SCORPIA, but undoubtedly competent. They made sure to use mirrors to check below the car, they checked the trunk, and if the fact that it was Alex Rider, the sole leader of one of the biggest terror organizations in the world in the car made them feel anything, they didn’t let it show.

Alex wasn’t surprised Yassen had picked them.

“Paranoid,” Ivey murmured from the seat next to him. Alex grinned to himself.

“It’s what kept him alive for so long.”

Ivey nodded.

“Guess so.”

They made their way into the compound, and while Alex let his gaze wander around for additional security measures, he couldn’t quite find any. The roof of the house would make for a good position for a sniper to keep the entry in sight, but there was no one up there. The fence was reinforced steel, practically impenetrable except for military vehicles. There were probably more guards somewhere, and a dozen other things Yassen had managed to hide. Alex didn’t doubt it would need multiple well-trained combat teams to breach the security of this place.

And even if they got inside, Yassen Gregorovich would be waiting for them.

That alone had to deter a significant amount of threats. Of course, barely anyone knew Yassen was here. He’d made sure of that before he left.

Alex made sure it stayed that way.

SCORPIA was doing well under his command. They’d grown significantly in some areas – intelligence services – and lost some business in others – mainly human trafficking, although Alex was looking into the cartels. Drugs were too profitable to truly get rid of for now.

He’d had to make an example shortly after Yassen had stepped down. Some poor bastard had believed Alex was too young and soft for the job. Alex hadn’t taken the easy way out this time like he had nine years ago with Warren. No, this time he’d made sure the bodies were visible, a bloody massacre for his enemies, competitors and allies to marvel at.

 _Alex Rider can lead SCORPIA_ , it had said, _Orion is not dead._

Things had quieted down afterwards. Alex had received a message soon after.

_Good work._

That was all he’d heard from Yassen for another six months, before he’d received his invitation here. He was curious to see what kind of idea Yassen had of home. This might just be a temporary thing, but Alex thought he knew the man better than that by now. They had spent a decade together, after all.

When Alex entered, he had a good look at the doors – heavy, solid metal. He smirked. No, Yassen wasn’t slacking. And he must have been building this for years, because places like this didn’t just appear within six months, and Alex doubted it was bought. Yassen wouldn’t bother with anything that wasn’t up to his standards. Alex knew a thing or two about that.

A woman was waiting by the door. She wore a simple black dress and high heels, and her age was impossible to guess. Could be mid-twenties, early thirties, mid-thirties. No way to tell. She was Asian, and her hair was cut in a bop that fell down to just below her chin. She stood ramrod straight, and when she moved, it was with the same grace Alex had come to associate with Malagosto graduates.

“Yassen is waiting for you.”

_Yassen._

How familiar were they? Or had Yassen simply decided that with his time on the executive board over, he didn’t need to enforce his proper title? Ivey next to him must have realized it as well, but he simply stayed by the entrance. He was here as security, and most people that weren’t Alex found Yassen Gregorovich’s company more terrifying than pleasant.

She led him through a hallway that was rather dark, with art on the walls that Alex assumed was expensive but didn’t really ring a bell, even despite the Countess’ best efforts. It opened into a bright room, one of the walls was almost completely made of glass. Bulletproof, Alex assumed. It looked out into the woods.

One a huge couch, facing those same woods, sat Yassen Gregorovich. He was reading, and Alex knew the one ear plug he seemed to be listening to was a fairly obvious give away he must have started a new language. Yassen turned around when he heard them, and something about seeing him made warmth uncurl inside Alex. There was something to be said about feeling safe around trained killers, but Alex wasn’t willing to hear it.

“Thank you, Lee,” Yassen said, and the woman left them alone once more.

Alex made his way through the room to sit next to him, and he didn’t bother to hide his look around. There was a fireplace in the room, and Alex didn’t doubt it was real. There were multiple book shelves, filled to the brim, and he wondered what Yassen read for fun, now that he didn’t have to make his way through report after report.

He sat down, looked Yassen over. He’d always looked younger than he was, and that hadn’t changed now. Yassen had to be in his mid-forties by now. He decidedly didn’t look much older than maybe his late thirties. He’d never told Alex when his birthday was, either.

“Retirement agrees with you,” Alex said, and Yassen put his book down on the table.

 _Cantonese,_ Alex recognized. He didn’t speak the language but was familiar enough with the most frequently spoken Chinese languages.

Yassen had finished Japanese years ago, and while he hadn’t managed much learning during his time as sole head of SCORPIA, he was apparently determined to get back to it.

“Leading SCORPIA agrees with you.”

There was a faint smile playing around Yassen’s lips, and Alex gave him a full one in return.

In Yassen-terms, that was high praise.

“I heard you got rid of that human trafficking ring in Eastern Europe.”

Alex’s smile slipped a little. They had been trafficking women and children from Slovakia, Hungary and Romania to Germany, where prostitution was legal. Then they’d sold them to pimps who didn’t care about anything but their own profits. It was hard for police to investigate much, given that brothels were mostly treated like any other business. And if there were a couple faces too young to be eighteen…well, the clients surely didn’t talk.

“The profits weren’t worth the risk.”

In his defense, Alex had actually done the maths. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d done it, because he knew Yassen would ask.

“I know. I almost did away with it last year, but I figured you’d enjoy it more.”

“How considerate.”

Yassen looked perfectly polite. Alex doubted there was anyone left alive except for him who could see the amusement in his eyes. He also didn’t doubt that Yassen wouldn’t have approved of him shutting down the trafficking for no other reason than morals.

“I’ve got a gym in the basement, and I haven’t had a good sparring session in a while.”

It was a clear challenge. It was also as close to affectionate as Yassen got, and Alex had become very, very good at hand to hand. They were evenly matched now, and Alex knew that he had a fair chance to win.

They went downstairs, and Alex did his best to ignore Lee, who stood by the door and watched them pass with sharp eyes.

“Staff?”

“Security.”

It made sense, Alex supposed. If she wanted, she could look perfectly harmless.

Sparring with Yassen was still exciting. It was no longer lessons – hadn’t been in a while – but what Alex had gained in muscle mass and height, Yassen easily made up for with agility and experience. He moved just like he had ten years ago, and Alex wondered how long Yassen could have done his job if he had liked leading SCORPIA. Probably for another two decades. But Yassen hadn’t wanted to, and although he was as dangerous and lethal as ever, something about Yassen seemed more at ease, seemed almost peaceful.

The thought made Alex hesitate for just a moment, and a milli second after Yassen’s kick had him laid out on the matt.

Yassen merely raised an eyebrow. Alex got up smoothly, shrugged.

“Got lost in your eyes.”

This time, Alex saw the blow coming. He ducked and went in, determined to win the second round.

They had a pleasant evening. Yassen introduced Alex to one of his favourite vodka brands – now that Alex was of age, Yassen still discouraged heavy drinking, but didn’t mind the occasional drink. Alex liked to think that Yassen drinking with him was a sign of trust, but then again, Yassen never actually had enough for it to impair his judgement.

They talked business. Alex would have preferred something else, but at the same time, he was relieved to be in contact with Yassen again. There were quite a few things he could use advice on, and between logistics for a bigger mission in South America, the changes new laws in the European Union required to be made to their arms trafficking schemes, and the establishment of a new security company in Johannesburg, they were quite busy. When Alex yawned for the first time, he glanced at his watch and realized it was already past midnight.

The forest behind the living room they were sitting in had become pitch black. The room was well-lit, but the fact Yassen was sitting here at all with that big of a window to the outside, in a lit room, at night, made it incredibly clear that the glass was indeed bulletproof. Alex still didn’t like the darkness of the forest outside.

“I’ve had a room prepared for you,” Yassen said, already getting up.

“I’m not that tired.”

Yassen raised an eyebrow, and Alex had heard how petulant he sounded. He was twenty-five. One day, he would have to stop acting like he needed to prove himself to Yassen.

“Good night, Alex,” Yassen said, effectively ending their conversation. Then he made his way out of the room, and Alex followed him instinctively. Yassen lead him up the stairs, and the second floor was just as carefully decorated as the first. This one wasn’t quite as dark, though.

“You can take the second room on the left.”

Yassen started to move down the hallway, the master bedroom seemed to be at the end of it.

“Thank you,” Alex said, and Yassen turned around and gave him a half-smile.

 _You’re welcome,_ Alex translated.

He made his way into the room Yassen had told him to and found it to be very comfortable – a huge bed, dark green sheets, plenty of pillows, his own bathroom with a bathtub and a shower. A wardrobe, a desk, all the things one would need to actually live here. All the things an upper-class hotel room contained. But to Alex, who’d stayed in luxurious suites all his life, this felt different.

Yassen was just down the hall.

It had been years since he’d actually slept in the same place as Yassen, Alex realized. Short trips on the Fer de Lance not counted.

He undressed, showered, changed into some of the clothes he’d brought. It was a luxury to keep stuff around after having to leave behind so much, but he was the head of SCORPIA now. He could afford a little comfort every now and then.

Alex fell into bed, exhausted. He’d just flown in from Dubai today. Yassen’s dacha was a good two hour drive from St. Petersburg. He hoped his sleep would be dreamless.

It wasn’t.

However, it wasn’t the usual nightmares of blood and torture, of watching Jack being tortured for information (it had almost come to that once, and he would never let it happen again), of Sagitta dying to protect him. It wasn’t even about the much more sophisticated, better planned attempt to assassinate him that had taken place once he had been nineteen and Yassen had taken over as SCORPIA’s sole leader.

It was about what had happened after.

Someone had tried to assassinate him. Alex had been shocked and lost and more terrified than he’d been in years.

He’d stayed in Yassen’s apartment and had somehow been stupid enough to leave the guest room. Had thought that approaching Yassen while he slept was in any way a good idea. He hadn’t meant any harm, but he’d still ended up with Yassen’s knees pressing down on his bicep, two strong hands wrapped around his throat, and the only reason he was alive was because the open door had let enough light fall inside so Yassen could recognize him.

The hands around his throat had slowly let go, and Yassen had moved away from him. Elegant, smooth. Alex hadn’t thought about it, but he’d reached out to stop him. Not for Yassen’s arm, or his shoulder, but his hip. Had let fingers settle on his hipbone and used just the slightest bit of pressure.

“Stay,” he’d asked, quietly. _Don’t leave me._

Yassen hadn’t spoken, but he’d come closer, had settled next to Alex. Wrapped an arm around him, pulled him in. Alex could have sobbed from relief. Being able to lean his head against Yassen’s chest had been great, but he’d always been greedy, and he’d never stopped pushing Yassen. After all the years of Yassen nudging and prodding and manipulating him into what he wanted, Alex thought he had a right.

He’d rolled around a little, his upper body on top of Yassen’s, and pushed one of his legs to rest between Yassen’s.

The door had still been slightly ajar. There was just enough light falling in to see that two inquisitive blue eyes were watching him. Then, a hand in his hair, careful, but different. Not soothing. Not comforting. Possessive, in a way that made Alex’s heartbeat pick up. Not pushing a lock of hair behind his ear, but resting there, on the back of his head, heavy. Promising.

Yassen’s eyes were still on his, and Alex swallowed. He knew Yassen could read him well enough. He knew Yassen didn’t need him to say anything.

Yassen made him say it, anyway.

“Yes,” he murmured, and even quieter, “please.”

Alex didn’t exactly know what to expect. It would be a lie to say he’d never imagined it, the truth was he’d imagined it more often than he’d ever admit to. Yassen being detached, even in situations like this. Yassen being competent, a good lover, but fundamentally uncomfortable with closeness. Yassen being passionate, in some of his softer moments even the idea of Yassen being gentle.

What he hadn’t expected was Yassen to know exactly what Alex would want, when Alex himself hadn’t even known. Yassen might be able to read his mind, but he couldn’t read what wasn’t there. It was his first time, and he knew _that_ was something that didn’t need to be said.

It didn’t seem to matter to Yassen. Somehow, the man used the same single-minded focus to take Alex apart that he’d use to line up a shot from more than a mile away. Alex didn’t even know what gave him away – his moans, when he closed his eyes, the way his body moved – but Yassen knew exactly what he needed to do.

He was beautiful, too. Alex had seen Yassen naked before, multiple times, but it had never been anything but sheer necessity. Well, there had been that one mission, for Delancey, with Selene and Yassen and that had been a whole other issue, watching Yassen undress himself and touch himself and sleep with someone else while he had to _watch-_

This was Yassen playing his body like an instrument, until fear and anxiety could find no room in his chest anymore, until his knuckles were white from gripping the sheets to hard, until his voice felt hoarse from begging – _please, oh, Yassen, Yassen, please, oh **god**_ – until his legs were shaking, until he felt like he was burning up from the inside, until it felt like he’d never be whole again without Yassen inside him. Until he closed his eyes and let himself go, trusting Yassen to catch him when he would fall.

Alex didn’t know sex would feel like that – he’d started doing it much earlier if he did – but there was also Yassen. Yassen, who allowed him to touch him wherever he wanted. Yassen, who looked like he was sculpted from stone but had skin just as warm as anyone, and so soft Alex never wanted to let him go. Yassen, whose beautiful, perfect lips felt so good on his skin, especially his neck, biting right around his pulse point. Even knowing he was in bed with a man so lethal he should never let him anywhere near his throat, the guilty pleasure was too much to deny himself.

Alex watched Yassen come with heavy-lidded eyes, biting his lip, unable to do anything else. He was panting, and his legs felt like jelly, and his lips were tingling. It made him feel good, in a way he couldn’t quite explain, to see Yassen had enjoyed it as well. Alex hadn’t really done anything beyond – being there. Letting Yassen touch him. Scrambling for something to hold on to.

But Yassen didn’t say anything, and Alex thought that when they would do it again, he’d ask Yassen for what exactly he wanted. What Alex could do for him. But for now, knowing Yassen had enjoyed himself was enough. He fell asleep curled around Yassen, feeling safe and warm and none of the fear that had made him want to vibrate out of his skin just hours ago had been able to touch him.

Alex had woken up full of hope and expectations, and he wasn’t surprised to see Yassen already awake. He slept only four hours a night, but he’d stayed put so Alex could sleep in. It was surprisingly sweet of him.

“Good morning,” Alex murmured, turning his head to press a kiss to Yassen’s lips.

The minor movement when Yassen turned his own head to the side told him everything he needed to know. Just like that, Alex could feel the anxiety nesting in his chest again.

He was still naked. He couldn’t help the colour from rising in his cheeks.

“Yassen…”

“We should talk about last night.”

The Yassen he knew was back – calm, collected, in control. And as much as Alex could still feel the softness of his skin, he could also feel the hard muscles beneath. The coolness in those blue eyes was back.

“I wanted it. And so did you.”

Alex didn’t back down easily these days – not after everything he’d been through. Not now that he knew what not backing down could get him.

“Yes.”

Never one to waste words. But it was all that Alex needed to know, really.

“I liked it,” he said, and Yassen smiled at him.

“I could tell.”

His cheeks had to be burning red by now. Smug bastard. Not that he had no reason for it, but still.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.”

Alex was worried about that – hell, what if Yassen hadn’t liked it? What if he was disappointed?

Yassen seemed to soften for a moment. _Fucking Jedi mind-reading tricks_ , Alex thought to himself.

“If I hadn’t wanted it, I wouldn’t have done it, Alex. And if I hadn’t enjoyed it, I would have stopped.”

Yassen’s very diplomatic, very consent-oriented way of saying _this wasn’t a pity-fuck._

Alex was more relieved than he wanted to admit. He was inexperienced, and Yassen very clearly…was anything but. And although this was firmly outside their usual teacher-student relationship, it was still good to know that Yassen was aware of that difference in experience.

“But you don’t want to do it again.”

The disappointment, the fact Alex very much wanted to do it again, the stubbornness, it was all there. Yassen sighed.

“I’ve just taken over as the sole head of SCORPIA. It would be stupid for me to have a weakness like that.”

Yassen and Dr. Three had taught Alex to stand his own ground, to make his own decisions. And most importantly, to argue his case.

“But you care about me anyway. People will still come after me to get to you. They already are. Let’s not pretend that assassination attempt had nothing to do with the recent changes in management.”

Yassen’s only indication of acknowledgement was a minor head tilt. For a moment, Alex wondered if Yassen would continue arguing a senseless case. He saw something in the man’s eyes that told him he wouldn’t, and while Alex felt partly glad, he also realized that Yassen may have been trying to let him off easy.

“You’re young, Alex. Very young. This was the first time someone made you feel this way. Don’t mistake pleasure for love.”

Alex opened his mouth, wanted to deny it wasn’t love he was feeling, that he wasn’t that attached – but he’d loved Yassen for years. And once he’d been old enough to realize, he’d discovered that love wasn’t quite a familial one.

_Watching Yassen undress himself, touch himself, look at Alex while he slept with someone else-_

No, this had been a long time coming. Alex just wasn’t sure if admitting that would help or hurt his case.

“I’m old for my age. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done – you know that.”

Yassen gave another slight smile, and somehow, it was fond in a way that Alex knew wouldn’t be enough. Not anymore. Not after last night.

“I know. But these are different things.”

Alex sat up, annoyed, not sure what to say because Yassen was right this time, Alex hadn’t even touched anyone before, he didn’t know what it would be like, and it had been so good…he wanted it, he knew that, but did it have to be from Yassen?

Everything seemed to come back around to Yassen these days, Alex couldn’t help but think. Yassen was on his mind with every mission he planned, whenever he finally had some free time. _Don’t disappoint Yassen. Make Yassen proud. Can’t wait to get some time off with Yassen._

He’d finished his re-conditioning under Dr. Three. Yassen’s influence – he refused to think of it as Stockholm Syndrome – was still strong, though.

The rational part of his brain told him that Yassen may very well be right. That he was doing the right thing, acknowledging the age difference, encouraging Alex to make other experiences. The part that was more emotional, the part that was mostly Alex Rider, felt rejected. He knew what he wanted. As much as Yassen might be able to read his mind, he didn’t know Alex better than Alex knew himself.

Although, his experiences last night might very well be all the evidence to the contrary he needed to disprove that particular argument.

Yassen was getting up, smooth, elegant. Alex’s own body was sore in ways it had never been before, but Yassen seemed unaffected.

“I’ll take a shower. Feel free to use the other bathroom. Then we can have breakfast.”

Practical. As usual. Alex didn’t disagree. And just like that, Yassen had shifted his world off its axis once more.

When Alex woke up that morning, the remnants of his dream were still lingering – it was always variations of that night, things Yassen had done with his hands, his tongue, his…well, other parts of his anatomy Alex was especially determined not to think about during the day. It was variations of all the things Alex wanted to do that he couldn’t that night. Of the things he’d ask Yassen for if he ever got another chance. As usual, the dreams left him hard and aching.

He turned on his back, looked up at the ceiling. Yassen’s room was just down the hall.

Alex had options. He could walk into Yassen’s room. He could take care of it himself. He could just take a cold shower.

He ruled out the first option by habit alone.

The green sheets felt nice on his skin, and the room was comfortable. The light from the window made grains of dust dancing in the air visible. Yassen was just down the hall. It was safe here. He didn’t need to fear for his safety if he weren’t alert for a couple minutes.

Alex’s right hand was already moving of its own accord, feelings of guilt, confusion, reminders of the fact that Yassen had once been a very different figure for him all firmly suppressed.

Then there was a knock on the door. Alex froze. Yassen would probably know what he was up to. Yassen could read his mind with startling and alarming accuracy.

“Yassen wants to know if you would like to join him for breakfast.”

Lee. Alex sighed. Clenched his right hand into a fist just above his stomach.

“I’ll be right down,” he replied.

Just like before, no footsteps could be heard when she left. Trust Yassen to find people that could still somehow sneak up on him.

Alex got up and made his way into the bathroom.

A cold shower it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What will happen next? Who is Lee? How long until Yassen and Alex actually talk?  
> Most importantly: Will Alex speak to Yassen about the security issues the big windows out to the forest pose?
> 
> We'll find out ;)


	2. What I Want

After his shower, Alex put on some comfortable jeans and a shirt before making his way downstairs. A door in the hallway that had been closed yesterday was open, and it led into a kitchen that looked straight out of a Better Homes & Gardens commercial.

There was a kitchen island with pans hanging above it, an induction stove, plenty of space to prepare meals, and a large table to the left of the room. If it wasn’t so against every idea Alex had of the man, he’d assumed Yassen had cooked. He walked towards the table and sat down next to Yassen, who had been waiting for him. Tea was already poured.

There were omelets on the table, fresh fruit and bread that smelled absolutely delicious. The tea tasted…interesting. Alex grimaced just a little.

“There’s jam in it,” Yassen explained without Alex needing to ask.

For a moment, everything British in Alex recoiled.

“Jam?”

“It’s a Russian tradition. I like it.”

Alex nodded while looking at Yassen, who took a sip from his own tea, obviously enjoying it. Then he took another sip himself. It was…drinkable, he decided.

Yassen sat down next to him and used his fork to lift one of the omelets onto his plate.

“There’s salmon inside,” he said simply, and Alex couldn’t help but realize there was no cook around, and Yassen was explaining the food to him.

“You made this?”

Yassen nodded.

“Why?”

Alex knew the question was stupid – why _wouldn’t_ he – but it just didn’t fit his idea of Yassen Gregorovich. Cossack. The man who had almost single-handedly assassinated SCORPIA’s executive board and molded the organization into something sleeker, deadlier and more secretive than it had been in years.

“It means that I don’t have to trust someone else with my food and no cook means one person less who knows about this house. It’s also relaxing.”

The reasoning made sense, and Alex decided to focus on the security benefits. Normally, Yassen wouldn’t care whether something was relaxing or not, but he was retired now. He had a right to do it. Alex wasn’t quite sure what that little sting inside his chest was, but it reminded him a lot of jealousy.

He didn’t say anything else about it, he just claimed an omelet himself, reached for some of the fresh bread and started eating. It was fantastic. Yassen had made sure they had food back when they were first training together, in that cabin in the woods somewhere in Russia. Alex still had no idea where exactly it was located. But there were worlds between the canned meals and military rations they’d lived off of then, and Yassen’s modern kitchen, the delicious fresh fruit and the expertly made omelet.

They were quite while they ate, and while Alex wasn’t a teenager anymore, he still wasn’t full once he’d had the same amount of food Yassen had had. Instead, he reached for the last omelet, and Yassen gave half a nod, allowing him to take it. Yassen must have made it for him, Alex realized, and the though made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Somehow, the second omelet tasted even better. Yassen was eating a few strawberries and seemed in no rush to get anywhere.

“I was thinking of having a look at the forest,” Alex announced, and Yassen nodded.

“We could go run together.”

Alex kept his face carefully blank – he’d assumed Yassen’s daily run had already happened, long before Alex was up.

“What’s the point of retirement if I don’t get any actual rest?”, Yassen asked, completely reasonable and as if Alex was still as easy to read as he had been when he was fourteen. Maybe for Yassen, he was.

Yassen was also, of course, right. He’d vanished for a reason. He would still keep fit because things could always go wrong, but he wasn’t leading SCORPIA anymore. He could afford to relax, and he deserved to relax.

“Point,” Alex conceded. Together, they cleaned up the kitchen, and then Alex went to his room to change into his running shoes and workout gear. When he came back down, Yassen was already waiting.

So was Lee. She had exchanged her dress and high heels for sportswear, and without the heels she was a full head shorter than Yassen. Which made her tiny compared to Alex, who had grown a few inches taller than Yassen over the years.

“Is she coming?”

Alex had asked Yassen, but he wasn’t the one who answered.

“I’m right here, you can speak to me.”

Lee didn’t sound aggressive in any way, but there was no hesitation, either. No title, no indication she knew who Alex was, but that she was working for Yassen made it very clear she knew exactly what kind of power Alex had. It rankled him to be treated like this. It rankled him more that Yassen seemed to have nothing to say to his security for treating him like this.

“You’re coming?”, Alex merely repeated, annoyance audible in his voice.

“Yes. Will that be a problem?”

There was a glint in her eyes he hadn’t seen before, and while he’d almost described her as docile yesterday, there was no indication of that now. Alex made a note in his mental file of her to do some research on who she was later on. She might move with the elegance of a Malagosto graduate, but she certainly wasn’t one of SCORPIA’s if she dared to speak to him like that.

Yassen seemed faintly amused but decided not to engage. Alex merely shook his head and followed Yassen outside. Once they left the house, Lee stayed about twenty feet behind them, giving them at least the illusion of privacy.

Alex’s questions felt like they were burning up his throat, but he refused to voice them. He knew it was a test. He knew Yassen wanted him to ask about her. But more than he wanted to pass the test, he wanted to avoid an answer he wouldn’t like.

Lee was an attractive woman. She was clearly dangerous. She could easily keep pace with them. She spoke with Alexander in a way no one had dared to in years. She called Yassen by his given name.

Alex swallowed hard and ignored the burn in his throat. Kept running and held his breath until his lungs were on fire instead.

After that night with Yassen, it had been hard to act normal around him for the first couple months. The only reason no one found out what had happened – because Sagitta and Tom were observant – was that Yassen was away for most of that time, and when they happened to speak, it was on a secure line with both of them in a room by themselves. Although Alex trusted Sagitta with his life, they hadn’t gone through resistance to interrogation, and what they didn’t know was something they couldn’t share. Alex also liked to think it made them less of a target, but since they were guarding him, the future head of SCORPIA, that was a delusion he knew he couldn’t afford. Plus, he didn’t want them to know. He didn’t want to have to explain.

Yassen was a world away, and Alex was overseeing a mission in South Africa. SCORPIA had been asked to supply security to an illegal weapons trade, because neither party trusted the other to stick to their agreement. The costs would be split between the parties and paid in full, and that was all SCORPIA cared about. The fact that American manufacturers were selling highly effective missiles to the Syrian regime was unfortunate, but not for Alex to change. Besides, SCORPIA was selling weapons to the Syrian rebels, so in a way, Alex thought, he was supporting those fighting for freedom.

The mission went smoothly, and Alex didn’t expect there to be any problems. He had requested an operative called Anhur, named after the old Egyptian god of war and hunting. You could say a lot about SCORPIA, but their system for code names didn’t disappoint. Anhur had graduated top of his class at Malagosto three years ago. He was only twenty-four, and Alex knew he had to be good to have made it that early. He’d had his debt paid off within two years and had been on high-level missions even before then.

Even SCORPIA’s older operatives wouldn’t slack around Alex anymore, not with the awareness of his future position. That’s why he wasn’t surprised when Anhur, after entering Alex’s temporary office in Cape Town, stood perfectly straight, waiting for his orders. Respect had become something Alex expected. It was nice not to be questioned about his age, about his right to lead. It had become less and less over the years, but now that Yassen’s word was law, his own orders were imperative as well. This would have scared him at some point, would have made him feel under pressure because he couldn’t ask anyone for help, but by now he trusted his own instincts. He’d been leading missions for years, after all.

Alex was sitting behind his desk, eyes taking in Anhur’s appearance. He was dressed like a businessman, befitting the location Alex had chosen for his temporary office, which was right in the business district of Cape Town. Tailored suit, expensive leather shoes, blonde hair cut short. He was about as tall as Alex himself, well-trained. Handsome, but wouldn’t stand out in a crowd.

He’d do nicely.

“How was your flight?”

Anhur’s eyes centered on Alex, and he gave a curt, polite reply.

“Very good, sir. Thank you.”

Alex gave a slight nod.

“I requested you because a CIA operative has been sighted. We don’t know if he’s here to stop the trade or if the CIA knows what their landsmen are trying to do here. I want you to find out. I want to know why he’s here, if he’s alone, if he’s going to become a problem. If not, stay out of sight. Our relationship with the CIA is mutually beneficial. However…if it becomes apparent he’ll try to stop the deal, handle it.”

Anhur nodded. Alex lifted the heavy black envelope with the silver scorpion and Anhur was right in front of him to take it out of his hand in a heartbeat. Alex hadn’t heard his steps. Anhur specialized in undercover missions, information acquisition. But he had been to Malagosto, which meant he would still be able to take care of the agent if needed.

“Yes, sir.”

Perfectly polite. Alex wondered if anyone had ever told Anhur to _be respectful, obey, never argue._ It was weird to know that now Alex was on Kurst’s side of the table.

“Dismissed,” he said, because there was nothing else to say.

Anhur passed the envelope from his right to his left hand, eyes still on Alex. For a moment, Alex expected him to say something. It was unlikely he would, he had been dismissed and there was no reason to linger. Alex returned his gaze and for another moment he was clueless why the man was waiting. Then he recognized something in Anhur’s eyes he’d only seen once before. The intensity of his gaze, the intent.

Blue eyes, just like all those months ago. Yassen’s were a lighter blue, though, a cooler color. Anhur’s reminded him of the sky, the color more expressive, the intention not that well-hidden.

Alex couldn’t help the smile that started to curl his lips, the man had been perfectly polite just a moment ago, and now he was checking Alex out. Then again, Alex realized, he was looking back. Maybe Anhur thought he wasn’t opposed to…this. Alex rarely felt out of his depth these days, but right now he was.

He cleared his throat. Anhur snapped back to attention.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said, turned on his heel and walked out.

Alex leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath. With Yassen it had been so easy, this was…messy. Anhur had definitely looked at him for longer than he had any right to, and Alex was wearing a nice suit, because he had a role to play as well, but…

No one had ever looked at him like that.

 _Wrong_ , a small part of him corrected, _you’ve just never picked up on it before._

It wasn’t a concern for the next few weeks – he had logistics to oversee, guards and combat teams to post, he needed to update Yassen and keep in contact with Hyde in Australia because his operation had come under attack from ASIS. A lot was happening and getting laid was not a point Alex could reasonably fit into his agenda.

But once everything had quieted down, the deal was done and Anhur had reported that the CIA guy had been in Cape Town on a completely different mission, Alex had time to think. He could call Anhur back to give him a detailed report. He could ask if he’d managed to gather any information about the operation the CIA was running. Anhur would write a report anyway, but he wouldn’t refuse if Alex summoned him. He could test the waters. It was new, and in a way, it was terrifying. But Alex had been killing people since he was fourteen, and on his list of possible dangers someone not being interested in him didn’t even rank in the top ten.

More importantly, though: Did Alex truly want him? Or did he just like the feeling of being wanted? Was it about Anhur, or was it merely about the fact that Alex had learned there were things he _liked_ , things he _wanted_? Was it because Anhur had blue eyes and blond hair and moved in a way that reminded Alex of Yassen?

Did it _matter_? Couldn’t he just sleep with someone that he knew was loyal to him for the hell of it? Because he enjoyed it? Anhur wasn’t a security risk, and Alex could hardly go to a club and pick up a civilian. Anhur had been to Malagosto, he knew who Alex was, he wouldn’t be weirded out by Sagitta or that Alex was not only careful, but paranoid. And if part of what made him attractive was that he looked a bit like Yassen, what did it matter? Maybe his interest in Alex existed solely because Alex would one day be leading SCORPIA.

Alex made a decision and had someone call Anhur to his suite in Cape Town. The location would be abandoned within the week, so it didn’t matter that the operative knew it, and if things went as planned, well. It would be convenient to have a bedroom nearby.

Shale and Mace were positioned in front of Alex’s suite that evening, and they let Anhur in without problems. Alex sat him down in his living room and questioned him about the CIA agent, about his mission, about anything else he’d seen. Anhur was good at his job, and he recounted every detail Alex could ask for, and ended with his own conclusions about the CIA’s operation. Alex was satisfied.

“Drink?”

Anhur seemed surprised for a moment, had probably expected another question about the mission, but he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

Alex fetched them drinks. It was expensive bourbon, and as much as Alex still didn’t like it, he thought it was the right thing to offer. Anhur’s facial expression told him it may have been a mistake.

“With respect, sir…how about something a little more…tasty?”

There was a spark in his eyes that made the tension ease a little, and Alex smiled. Put the heavy, surely expensive glasses down and turned around to the well-stocked bar once more.

“Why don’t you pick something,” he said, before he could think too much about it. Anhur got up and moved silently to stand beside him, looking over the spirits available. Then he walked behind the bar and opened the little fridge it contained to have a look inside.

“They’ve got lime, lemon, a really good tequila, triple sec and salt. I can make a mean margarita.”

Alex leaned against the other side of the bar.

“Impress me.”

The challenge was clear, but Anhur only smiled back.

“Yes, sir.” Teasing.

“And call me Alex.”

It was very carefully spoken, deliberately not made out to be an order. Anhur nodded in understanding.

“I’m Ruben.”

Alex knew that, he’d had a look at the man’s file, but he simply nodded. He watched him work, first he applied the salt around the rim of the glass, then he filled all the ingredients into a blender. After that they were poured into a shaker with plenty of extra ice. Ruben strained the final drinks into the prepared glasses and handed one to Alex in front of the counter.

“Judge for yourself.”

“Thank you,” Alex murmured, clinking their glasses together. Ruben held his gaze, and it made Alex feel hot in a way that was new and exciting. He took a sip, and the drink was well-done. Alex didn’t have too much experience with alcohol, but it didn’t burn its way down his throat like bourbon did, and he would never have admitted that he couldn’t tell a good margarita from a bad one.

“It’s acceptable,” he finally said.

Ruben pressed a hand to his heart as if wounded.

“Acceptable? Just _acceptable_?”

Alex took another, slower sip.

“It’s fairly good,” he conceded, and Ruben gave him a wide smile.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Alex huffed a laugh and set the drink down. Ruben made his way around the bar once more to come to stand in front of Alex, putting his own drink down as well. They had never been this close to each other, and Alex used the moment to really have a look at the other man. His hair was blond, but more reminiscent of Alex’s own hair then Yassen’s lighter tone. His eyes were open, and there was a heat in them that made Alex swallow. He had a faint tan from his weeks here in South Africa, and he was, all in all, a very attractive man.

When he leaned forward, Alex mimicked his movement. Their first kiss was careful and a little hesitant. Alex wondered whether his own lips were too dry and if he was doing it wrong. But when Ruben pulled back, his eyes were even more intense. Couldn’t have been that bad, then.

“I want you,” Ruben said, honest, plain and without trying to hide the way his voice had dropped deeper than it had been before. A small part of Alex’s brain registered they’d only taken a few sips each from the margarita and that the drinks would be wasted. A much bigger part was simply happy he hadn’t had more of it. This seemed to require his whole brain power as it was.

Alex had invited Ruben here with exactly this outcome in mind. He’d offered him a drink instead of dismissing him hoping that exactly this would happen. He _did_ want it. The only possible objection would be Yassen…but if Yassen had wanted him, he could have said so. If Yassen had wanted him, he _would_ have said so. So he pushed the memory of Yassen to the back of his mind and reached for Ruben’s hand.

“Come.”

Alex led Ruben into his bedroom, and when he let go of his hand, Ruben didn’t hesitate. His hands were on Alex’s hips, his lips kissing him once more and this time, he just let it happen. Ruben smelled of expensive aftershave and gunpowder and when the hands on his hips made their way below his shirt, Alex couldn’t suppress a shiver. It felt like a weakness, but Ruben didn’t seem to mind at all.

Allowing his own hands to slip below Ruben’s shirt, he curiously mapped the skin of his back, the fingers of his right hand finding a long, thin scar that had probably been caused by a knife. Alex thought about who could have possibly attacked him until he realized Ruben was walking him back towards the bed. Although Alex didn’t really mind it there was something off about it. Something that made his skin crawl in a way that had him on edge.

Ruben didn’t just push him down – he lowered him to the bed, carefully. Alex knew what kind of strength that took, but Ruben made it feel effortless. It reminded Alex of Yassen lowering down Selene.

Angry at himself, he banished the thought to the back of his mind, but when Ruben came to kneel over him, one leg to each side, he felt boxed in. _That’s a killer on top of you._

Ruben moved his hands up to cup Alex’s face to kiss him, slow and deep. It didn’t feel bad. _He could break your neck if he wanted to._

Ruben moved down to kiss his neck, aiming right above his pulse point, just like Yassen had done, just like Alex liked-

_Those are a predator’s teeth on your throat._

“Stop,” Alex said loudly, pushing Ruben off him. Ruben moved back easily, and Alex scrambled up the bed a little, only relived when his legs were no longer trapped under Ruben’s. Ruben was kneeling on the bed, his hands visible in front of him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

That was genuine concern in his voice. Suddenly, Alex felt embarrassed.

“I just…” Ruben was watching, waiting. Giving him the time he needed.

“You’re a Malagosto graduate.”

The meaning was obvious, and Ruben understood. He nodded slightly.

“So are you.”

 _You’re not the only one in danger_ , Alex could hear just as well. It was true. But he had no intention of hurting Ruben. That feeling was probably mutual, or they wouldn’t be here. It wasn’t a rational fear, Alex knew that – even if Ruben killed him, he would never get out of here alive. Sagitta would find him. Yassen would hunt him down. It would be stupid to kill Alex right now. It would be obvious that it had been Ruben.

“You could kill me,” he said, nevertheless, but Ruben looked skeptical.

“I don’t think I could, to be honest. You’ve been doing this for longer than I have. You’re exceptionally good at it. Besides, I have no intention of hurting you in any way.”

It helped to hear it spelled out. The compliment didn’t hurt, either. But the anxiety still lingered.

“It’s not rational,” Alex admitted, and Ruben nodded.

“I get it. The paranoia keeps us alive.”

Alex gave a half-smile. No, he couldn’t pick up civilians, no matter how absolutely harmless they were. He needed people that could understand.

Still, he didn’t know what to do. Ruben still looked good. Better, actually, sitting on Alex’s bed like that, lips swollen from kissing.

“So…what now?”

Ruben shrugged.

“Whatever you want. You want me to leave, I go. You wanna try again, we can do that. If you think it’ll help you to be on top, that’s an option, too.”

Alex took a deep breath. It hadn’t been this difficult the last time. Yassen was much more dangerous than Ruben, and Yassen didn’t need to fear any consequences if he were to kill Alex. But Yassen’s teeth on his neck weren’t a threat. Yassen’s body on him was more protection than it was caging him in. Alex knew that if Yassen wanted him dead, he’d be dead by now. Yassen had taken on the whole board to argue for his life, and later on had taken over the whole board to allow Alex to change SCORPIA as he saw fit once it was his time.

Angry at himself because he was thinking of Yassen again, Alex shook his head. Firmly closed the door to the memories of that night.

“I want this,” he decided, and Ruben nodded. Seemed to think for a moment.

“You could tie me up.”

He said it like it was a completely rational course of action. In a way, it was. He’d be significantly less of a risk if properly tied down.

“You would let me do that?”

Alex sounded incredulous. Ruben shrugged.

“You’re Alex Rider, Orion, Mr. Gregorovich’s right hand. If you wanted me dead, I’d be dead. You could tell your combat team outside to shoot me when I leave. I could take down four of them, maybe six before they’d get me. Even if I were to get away against all odds, you would have every resource in SCORPIA’s arsenal at your disposal to hunt me down. Besides, killing you right now would be stupid. Everyone would know it was me. I’d be hunted and Mr. Gregorovich wouldn’t let the killer of his right hand live.”

He stated the facts so dispassionately that Alex couldn’t help but agree. Ruben had analyzed the situation correctly. They even shared some of the same thoughts, maybe because of their similar training.

Ruben shrugged again.

“I’ve got nothing to lose.”

The reasoning was sound. Alex found himself relaxing just a fraction. He thought about it. He was truly thinking about tying someone to his bed and…

Alex blushed. Ruben’s answering grin was dirty, and it only made Alex’s cheeks feel hotter.

“I wouldn’t mind it. I kind of like it.” Ruben’s voice sounded deeper again, and Alex _liked_ that.

Alex licked his lips, couldn’t help but feel hot all over again.

“I want you to fuck me, though.”

Ruben nodded. It was obvious just how much he approved of that idea.

“Then tie me down and ride me.”

Alex had to be bright red by now, because Ruben kept saying these things as if they were perfectly normal things to offer to someone you slept with. Maybe they were. Between people that could kill each other, at least.

As hot as it sounded, Alex didn’t want to tie him down. He didn’t really have anything on him to tie him down with. And that was without considering the fact that Ruben could probably slip his bonds if he needed to.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

Ruben tilted his head, looked at him intently.

“Do you want me to leave, Alex?”

It was an honest offer. It was an easy way out. Pride and stubbornness made Alex shake his head.

“Okay, then let me try something, alright?”

Alex nodded. Ruben got up, kicked off his shoes, stripped down within a few seconds, jeans and shirt abandoned in a hurry until he had only his boxers on. Then he moved to the lie on the bed next to Alex, on his back, stretching his hands over his head to grab the iron-wrought frame of the bed. It showed off his trained physique, the muscles in his arms, chest and stomach.

Ruben looked at Alex, and Alex decided to take of his own shoes, get rid of his shirt and trousers and sat down on top of Ruben. Slowly, he brought his own hands up to press down on the man’s wrists. He was leaning forward so much it would be easy to kiss him in this position. Ruben’s pupils were blown, and Alex could feel that he indeed didn’t mind being pinned down at all.

He closed the few remaining inches of distance between them and this time, it was easier to ignore the security risk. It was still present, he was still aware just who he was sharing his bed with. But this time, Alex was on top, he could control where Ruben moved his hands, and he made sure that Ruben’s teeth stayed far away from his neck. It was uncoordinated, and a lot less elegant then Alex had come to expect, but it worked. He was panting into Ruben’s shoulder as the man grabbed him firmly, and they both didn’t take long.

It was…different. Very different. But when they moved to the shower, and Ruben went to his knees in front of him under the stream of hot water, Alex had to bury his hand in the man’s hair and lean against the tiles to keep standing.

This was good. This was pretty damn good.

Afterwards, he fell asleep on Ruben’s chest. When Alex woke up the next morning and turned to press a kiss to Ruben’s lips, the man didn’t turn away. Alex didn’t bother trying to analyze the piercing feeling in his chest.

 _Uses suppression as a semi-successful coping mechanism_ , Dr. Three whispered from somewhere in his mind. Three could go fuck himself, Alex decided.

Alex ordered them room service while Ruben poured the old margaritas down the drain.

“Now you’re just spoiling me,” Ruben murmured when the staff brought in chocolate croissants, fresh fruit, toast, omelet and fresh bread. There were also eclairs. Yassen being a world away had some advantages, at least.

Alex shrugged.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s just normal breakfast.”

“For SCORPIA’s heir apparent, I bet it is,” Ruben murmured, and Alex opened his mouth to deny it, but Ruben’s grin cut him off.

“I’m not judging.”

“You better not be.”

They had breakfast. Then came the awkward moment of goodbye. Alex wasn’t sure if he should say anything else, but after how patient Ruben had been…

“If you want, we can do this again.”

Ruben seemed to think about it.

“Normal operatives don’t get to contact you, Alex, so I can’t reach out to you. But I liked last night, and you can feel free to contact me again. I’ve got my missions, but when I’m around, or have some free time…”

He trailed off, but Alex got his meaning. He nodded. Ruben was probably right, Alex’s location and contact were classified.

“I’ll call you,” he said, which sounded awfully and wonderfully normal, and seemed to be enough for Ruben.

“I’m looking forward to it. Take care, Alex.”

“You too, Ruben.”

Ruben gave him a last smile before he turned around and made his way out the door.

Marcus wasn’t surprised when the door opened to let the operative called Anhur out. He’d been in there for almost twelve hours, it was about damn time.

When he’d arrived for his shift starting at two that night, both Shale and Mace had looked like something was decidedly not okay.

“What is it?”

Mace had looked away, and Shale had sighed, but finally answered.

“The operative, Anhur. He’s been in there for six hours.”

Marcus had almost started to tell them how stupid it was to leave Alex unprotected, to not at last check if everything was okay, when Shale had shrugged.

“I mean, he’s old enough for that kind of stuff. Not really our business.”

Marcus had needed a moment. And another moment. It had taken quite a few moments to realize the blonde boy they’d met four years ago was a young man now. And that someone staying in his suite overnight was probably not because that someone had killed Alex Rider and disappeared from the 56th level of a skyscraper.

“You think…”

Marcus started. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.

Mace was still cautiously quiet. Shale nodded, like they were all overreacting and unreasonably so.

“I think they hooked up. It’s just sex. The guy looks good enough.”

Well, Marcus wasn’t quite sure if Jack would second that thought. Hell, would they have to tell Jack about it? An even more terrifying thought entered his mind: Would they have to tell Yassen fucking Gregorovich?

Had someone given the kid the talk about safer sex between lessons on how to kill people and leading international terrorist organizations?

Marcus had had about six hours to think about all these questions, and he’d decided that he wouldn’t be telling Yassen Gregorovich, because he liked his bones intact and unbroken. He also wouldn’t tell Jack, because Alex was grown and he could talk about his…sex life with whoever he wanted to talk about it. That wasn’t anyone else’s business.

Except for his team of personal bodyguards, who had to bear witness to it. Alex must have had a good night, because he ordered a whole lot of room service, and an hour after, Anhur walked out, looking to all the world as if he didn’t give a flying fuck about the bodyguards outside the door who knew exactly what he’d been up to that night.

He gave a polite nod and disappeared. Marcus managed to restrain himself for about half an hour after before knocking. He looked at Aranda, who had taken the shift with him, and just said, “You wait here.”

Aranda nodded. Marcus entered once Alex had let him know he could.

The breakfast was only half-eaten, but Alex was sitting on the couch, munching on eclairs. Gregorovich wouldn’t approve. Then again, Gregorovich rarely approved of anything and if he would have words with Alex about tonight, it wouldn’t be about eclairs.

“How are you?”

“I’m good. You?”

Alex seemed very relaxed.

“I’m good, too. Now that I know you weren’t killed by the elite assassin who spent the night in your room.”

The moment it took for the penny to drop was almost hilarious. Misunderstanding, slow realization, horror, ending in embarrassment. Alex’s cheeks were turning red so quickly it was truly impressive.

Alex had become used to having Sagitta around, and it had become normal. He’d never really had anything to hide, and it wasn’t like they were following him into the bathroom. But he’d never hooked up with anyone before, and the fact that the people guarding his door twenty-four hours a day for seven days a week had borne witness to that, was probably not the thought he wanted to engage in the morning after.

(Not that Marcus wanted to know what was on Alex’s mind. Very much not, because grown and deadly or not, he still remembered that fifteen-year-old boy they had first met.)

Alex swallowed down the éclair he had been munching on and took a deep breath.

“I…am sorry.”

It sounded almost like a question, and Marcus shook his head.

“It’s not a big deal. You’re a young man after all, there’s nothing…weird about it but the fact that we’re around all the time. Just maybe…let us know so we don’t worry. Make sure you’re safe.”

The last sentence held a double-meaning, and Alex blushed even more – which Marcus hadn’t thought was possible. But Alex nodded.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m careful.”

It was something. It was a kind of weird standoff, with Marcus in the middle of the room giving well-meaning advice about safer sex and Alex trying to disappear between the couch cushions, still holding a tray of eclairs.

“Well…”, Marcus started.

Alex looked at him. Marcus wasn’t sure what exactly was the best way forward, but the conversation was awkward enough for both of them, so he just grabbed a croissant from the leftovers and plopped down in one of the armchairs. It seemed to relax Alex a little.

“Since you didn’t buy him dinner first, at least you got him breakfast after.”

Alex chuckled, and the tension eased a little more.

“So, guys?”

Alex bit his lip. He seemed very insecure for a moment, and then he just nodded. Marcus’ smile became softer. There were, after all, a lot of assholes in the military. It wasn’t like Alex’ concern was pointless.

“Hey, we don’t care. Some people do, but you don’t have to worry about them. They’re not worth it anyway. You’re the future head of SCORPIA. If they call you names you can just make them disappear.”

Alex looked grateful, and relieved.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Maybe you should talk to Jarek about it.”

Alex seemed confused for a moment.

“Why Jarek?”

“He’s gay.”

Marcus didn’t consider that news, but apparently, Alex hadn’t known. Then again, how would he know? They’d kept that part of their lives away from the kid, because he’d been young. Now it seemed like they wouldn’t have to be quite so careful anymore.

“Hm,” Alex made, his earlier blush almost gone and already much harder to read. He often was these days. He really had grown a lot since the time Sagitta had first met him.

Marcus hoped what he’d said had gotten the message across, but Alex was already back to being unreadable, his mask restored for now.

“Thank you,” Alex repeated, before putting down the eclairs and straightening up.

“I think we should be ready to leave by tomorrow. Give the order to start packing up, charter a jet, the usual. The CIA seems to be onto something here, it might be of interest later.”

Just like that, they were back to business, and Marcus nodded.

“Alright, sir. I’m on it.”

Alex had spent the rest of the day writing reports, wrapping up the mission, going through a process he was so familiar with by now it was almost boring. Sagitta acted completely normal around him, and that made him relax.

Alex had told Ruben he’d call. He probably would.

Their run through the Russian forest was nice enough, and once they were back at the dacha, Alex realized his first shower that morning had truly been pointless. At least in terms of cleanliness. Yassen used the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, Alex used the one in his room, and Lee disappeared to god knows where. Alex didn’t like it that the woman was able to vanish like that or sneak up on him.

He trusted that she wouldn’t harm him, because Yassen trusted her enough to hire her, but he still wasn’t sure about her motives. When he made his way downstairs again, dressed in the casual clothes from before, he found Yassen sitting on his couch, reading.

It wasn’t the slim Cantonese textbook from yesterday. It was a thick volume written in Mandarin.

“What are you reading?”

Alex didn’t speak the language but was intrigued to find out what Yassen would read if it wasn’t for work or education. Yassen carefully slid a bookmark between the pages before closing it. Then he focused on Alex.

“It has been translated to English under the title The Three-Body Problem. You may have read about it in one of your physics books.”

Alex vaguely remembered hearing about it but apparently this wasn’t a test since Yassen simply explained.

“The author creates a world in which the laws of physics are unreliable. The biggest problem is that there is no guarantee the sun will go up tomorrow. If it does go up, it might be too close to the planet and scorch the earth. If the sun doesn’t go up for years, the planet might freeze. Civilization after civilization gets wiped out by the whims of nature.”

The concept sounded vaguely ominous, but interesting.

“And that happens because there’s not just one sun. There are three,” Alex concluded.

“Yes. And the population of the planet in question is scrambling to predict the suns’ movements, but they are hindered by the three-body problem, which requires them to take the initial positions and velocities of three point masses and solve for their subsequent motion according to Newton's laws of motion and Newton's law of universal gravitation.”

Alex nodded.

“Light reading, then.”

A smile played around Yassen’s lips.

“It is very interesting. The author creates a version of earth in which mere survival is still the highest priority, no matter how far civilizations manage to evolve. Everything is evaluated based on practicality and usefulness. Emotions are frowned upon. Art is unnecessary. Relationships only exist when the government tells people to procreate. It’s a harsh life.”

Alex swallowed. He could remember when he had to put survival above all else. When he’d had no choice but to put it over his morals, his dreams and his relationships. Practicality had saved his life – and Yassen’s life – over and over again. He wasn’t sure he’d want to read the book. He wasn’t sure if it wouldn’t hit just a little too close to home.

Yassen seemed to read him without difficulties but decided not to comment. There was nothing to say that Alex couldn’t figure out for himself. Instead, he simply continued.

“The science of it is explained so far as to be understandable for the layman, but it is much more interesting with a bit of background knowledge. I would recommend it, though.”

Alex took another look at the book.

“What’s the author called?”

“Liu Cixin.”

“I might give it a try when I have the time.”

It was an offer made solely for Yassen’s benefit, and the man seemed to realize as much. His gaze softened for a moment. The memories of what it meant to run SCORPIA on his own were clear about the amount of free time that job left one with.

“I’ll send you a copy to the Bucephalus. If you don’t have time for it, at least keep it around so it looks like you read.”

Alex laughed. He loved Yassen’s dry sense of humor. It also offered a convenient way out if he did find the book unpleasant to read. How Yassen would make sure it would be delivered onto SCORPIA’s swimming command center was something Alex decided not to ask about. It would show up one day, and that was all he needed to know.

They spend a few more hours together. Alex had managed to distract himself very efficiently from the fact that he would be flying back that evening, but when Ivey stepped into the kitchen during dinner, it was time to stop playing house.

“We’re ready to go, sir.”

Alex had chartered a business jet, there were no boarding times to be taken into account and the airfield they were using was small enough they could leave whenever they wanted. Still, Yassen hadn’t taught him to hide from his duties.

“I’ll be out in a few.”

Ivey left again, and Alex finished his meal. Just like the breakfast, it was delicious.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

Yassen gave a slight nod.

“It was good to see you again. You’re welcome here when you need some time off.”

“Thank you,” Alex repeated, meaning not only the invitation but the understanding Yassen could offer. No one else except the two of them knew what I was like to lead a behemoth like SCORPIA on their own.

Yassen’s smile made it clear he’d understood and when Alex left, he couldn’t help but take the image with him. The jet was comfortable and he’d learned to sleep during flights, but he stayed up for almost the whole night, thinking.

It was good to see Yassen relax. It was what he deserved and exactly what Alex had hoped for when he’d taken over SCORPIA. It made him feel warm and fuzzy to think about the fact Yassen had cooked for him and invited him into his house.

It made him feel significantly worse to remember that he would spend most of his time away from Yassen for however long he would be leading SCORPIA. The thought of Lee getting to be with Yassen for every single day in the meantime made something sharp and ugly inside him rear its head.

Alex banished the thoughts to the back of his mind and reached for a case file. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well put the time to good use.

 _Semi-successful coping mechanism_ his ass. He’d become a master of suppression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real important thing here is:  
> Read Liu Cixin's Three-Body Problem. Thank me later.


	3. Interlude: Access To Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the Interludes in Devil, so I decided to do something similar. :)

Tulip Jones had spent a fair amount of time thinking about Yassen Gregorovich’s career and rise to power. 

She’d spent hours staring at his picture, as if it would allow her to see more than just the façade. She’d read through his file again and again, jotting down her own notes next to those of trained psychologists to get at least a rough idea of what was happening in Gregorovich’s brain.

Psychologists had spent hundreds and thousands of hours poring over Gregorovich’s files, throwing out earlier accounts of him as a simple recipient of orders and talented killer. _No ambition_ , they’d written, _dangerous, competent, but ultimately an operative loyal to his handlers. Mainly motivated by money_. Given the years and years Gregorovich had worked for SCORPIA it had been a reasonable observation at the time. It read like a failed premonition these days, and it really made Tulip question the sums MI6 sunk into keeping up their behavioral science units.

They had redone everything when Gregorovich had become a member of the board, and then again a year later when he’d manage to take all but one of them out. Dr. Three had stayed alive, and there were varying theories for the reasons: Maybe Gregorovich and him had had something the other needed, maybe Gregorovich had some learning left to do when it came to international crime organizations, maybe Three’s contingency plans were too good to have him killed.

Personally, Tulip doubted Gregorovich had needed – or would have accepted – a mentor. The man was remarkably self-reliant. His previous jobs as sniper had made that clear. Her money was on option three: the good doctor had had contingency plans good enough to keep himself alive. Yassen Gregorovich only kept those people alive who were more useful to him alive than dead. Sentimentality hadn’t saved the rest of the board, and certainly wouldn’t have saved Dr. Three.

Once Three had stepped down, Gregorovich had overhauled SCORPIA and cut off the parts that Tulip assumed he’d deemed too risky, too showy, or not profitable enough. The first six months of SCORPIA under Gregorovich had led to MI6 – and most other internationally operating intelligence agencies – losing most of what little insight they had into SCORPIA. Given that sudden blackout of their already limited SCORPIA intelligence, Gregorovich must have had a pretty solid idea of just which parts were easy to infiltrate and too showy to keep from the watchful gaze of competent agents.

SCORPIA’s flashy terrorist attacks had made it easier for intelligence agencies to trace them, to get an idea of their operatives. More expensive, regulated weaponry bought – bombs, nuclear submarines, biological weapons – had made it easier to follow their supply chains. Now, it was almost impossible to trace SCORPIA’s operatives or their weaponry. SCORPIA had become a perfect mirror of the intelligence world once more.

Gregorovich had made sure the message was loud and clear – SCORPIA still offered their usual services. Money was still the language in which to speak to them. The new SCORPIA offered higher confidentiality and completely untraceable business transactions. For the intelligence world, it was easy to read between the lines: No more operations for megalomaniacs and billionaires wanting to get revenge on a world they perceived as not quite befitting their lunatic ideas. It was the same course that Alex Rider had promised SCORPIA would take years ago in Johannesburg.

Yassen Gregorovich had gotten rid of all the bulky, unnecessary parts of SCORPIA until he’d whittled it down to something just as sleek, dangerous and lethal as himself. No unnecessary bravado, no waste of resources. Efficiency, practicality and profitability were SCORPIA’s only commandments. A return to the earlier days, in some ways. A foray into new realms in others.

Where SCORPIA had once been a looming behemoth, it now reminded Tulip of a coiled snake. A snake that was wrapped around the whole globe, ready to rear its head wherever needed, but nevertheless, a snake. Stealthy, hidden, out of sight when necessary. Tulip couldn’t ignore the irony of the fact that an assassin and terrorist had led that change, while former intelligence agents had become too secure in their position and allowed SCORPIA to lose the safety of anonymity.

There were rumors that Gregorovich had paid some well-known consultants to transform hierarchy and command chains of SCORPIA, and Tulip wouldn’t rule it out. There was no board anymore, so everything had to be clear enough for one person to be able to oversee it. Gregorovich had been a surprisingly efficient CEO, because Tulip didn’t know how else to describe his effective handling of an internationally operating business that had been handicapped by the infighting of its executive board before.

It had been two years into his reign before someone dared move against Gregorovich, and his retaliation had been so brutal that no one had tried since. _The Glaive Incident_ , as the intelligence world referred to the mass murder Gregorovich had committed to assure everyone his SCORPIA did not forgive, was a massacre like none Tulip had seen in her career. And she’d worked through the collapse of the Cold War. Gregorovich had made his point, and the world had listened.

He’d also moved Malagosto once more, and this time, the intelligence world hadn’t been able to find out its new location. That had been worrying on its own. The last time, it hadn’t taken the MI6 and CIA too long to figure out where SCORPIA’s school for assassins was, but now they were completely blind. The school still existed, that much was clear. Its graduates were better than ever before and their services more sought after. Their pricing reflected that.

Under Gregorovich’s leadership MI6 had done business with SCORPIA for the first time since sending Hunter undercover. They simply didn’t have the kind of assassins that SCORPIA had to offer. And for this new SCORPIA, MI6 was just another client. Efficiency, practicality and profitability, nothing else mattered. Whatever grudges Gregorovich may have held against them, they clearly didn’t keep him from taking their money. Privately, Tulip believed Gregorovich didn’t hold half as much of a grudge against them as they’d like to believe. He’d stolen Alex away from under their noses and turned him into his successor, and that was as resounding a message as any. He’d gotten even long ago, and they still had to deal with the headache of the consequences.

MI6 had started monitoring an investment firm called _Greer Holdings_ shortly after the Glaive Incident. Some of their money came from security companies associated with SCORPIA, but plenty came from other, more legitimate sources. It was impossible to tie _Greer Holdings_ to SCORPIA and it was impossible to proof they were engaging in any illegal market manipulations or insider trading. Their profits were remarkable, but so were many other company’s these days. They had no proof Gregorovich had been behind the idea of using already flimsy American market regulations to add yet another field to SCORPIA’s already impressive portfolio but Tulip’s instincts were rarely wrong. Yassen Gregorovich was just as good a businessman as he had been an assassin, and everyone who didn’t want to face that truth was simply trying to cocoon themselves in a false sense of security that someone in Tulip’s position couldn’t afford.

Underestimating Yassen Gregorovich had led to all this in the first place, and she had been determined not to make the same mistake twice. It hadn’t mattered in the end, because Gregorovich had disappeared before they’d ever gotten their hands on him.

A little bit after Tulip had taken over from Alan Blunt, Alex Rider had taken over from Yassen Gregorovich. They’d tried finding Gregorovich after his retirement, but the teams MI6 had sent had been sent back in black body bags with silver scorpions on them, and the same thing had happened to the CIA’s team. The message had been clear and they had understood. SCORPIA was protecting Gregorovich and it was better to stay away. Alex Rider was still loyal to his mentor.

Currently, SCORPIA was undergoing another major change. Alex Rider clearly hadn’t lost all his morals, or otherwise he wouldn’t have started doing away with human trafficking rings in Eastern Europe. Unlike Gregorovich, Alex also didn’t mind doing it publicly enough that the intelligence would could take note. But Tulip didn’t doubt that that was just the beginning.

She was curious what else Alex Rider would do.

* * *

It was a slow day at the dacha.

Admittedly, compared to Yassen’s previous life, everything he did these days was rather slow and relaxing. Being an assassin hadn’t been easy, being one of SCORPIA’s top operatives had been harder and being a board member was a constant walk on a tightrope with lots of sharks in the water. But being the sole leader of an organization like SCORPIA had meant being a whole other level of busy. The day didn’t have enough hours to work in, and Yassen had had to remember his own lesson: _Delegate._

The problem with delegating was trusting that a job would be done to his standards, and he didn’t trust anyone besides Alex. Not really. But he’d managed. These days, SCORPIA wasn’t his issue anymore. Alex had grown into his role as Head very nicely, and there was a small echo of pride that came with that reminder.

Yassen had been reading when Lee entered the room still in her pajamas, soft and light blue. She walked with her usual grace, her steps soundless, but her outfit told Yassen all he needed to know. She made her home at the other end of the couch, wrapping one of the blankets around her.

Yassen had reached out to her because she was so good at looking harmless, young and fragile – no one would ever see her for the threat she was. But in this moment, wrapped in blankets and seemingly tiny, even he had to remind himself that she was indeed dangerous.

“How are you?”

The question was heavy in the air between them: He knew she wasn’t well. But he didn’t ask lightly, didn’t engage in small talk like that. It was a serious inquiry into her well-being, and she knew him well enough to know it.

“Alive,” she replied, eyes focused on him, but hazy enough he knew she hadn’t slept much that night.

Yassen knew these days. Knew them well enough to avoid empty platitudes and meaningless phrases, not that he was the type for them. He gave a simple nod of acknowledgement and poured her a cup of tea. He stirred jam into it, and she accepted it with a slight nod of her head.

Her _thank you_ was spoken in Japanese, and Yassen went back to his book. They just sat there, with her slowly sipping the tea, while he was reading his book. Neither of them was much of a talker.

When Lee finally put her empty cup of tea on the table, the movement made Yassen look up. Her gaze had cleared and it was obvious she wanted to say something. Carefully, he slid his bookmark between the pages and looked at her.

“I’d like to go to Tokyo.”

It wasn’t surprising, not really. Yassen’s gaze was all the acknowledgement she needed.

“When?”

Lee took a deep breath, looked outside for a moment. It was autumn, and the wind was becoming stronger and stronger. The trees were swaying, and if the windows hadn’t been so thick, they may have heard the creaking of old wood. But it was perfectly quiet inside until she spoke.

“I have to do some recon before I can go. I’m not in a hurry. A few months, I think.”

Yassen nodded.

“I have plans in February.”

The right corner of Lee’s mouth rose, a ghost of a smile. They understood each other well. Yassen didn’t need to offer his assistance or company.

She took a moment to think. Yassen let her. He focused back on the trees outside, still swaying. It would be nice to use the fireplace sometime soon, he decided. It would be pleasant to collect wood, chop it, kindle a fire. He had always enjoyed the smell of campfires. It reminded him of his days in Estrov, of evenings sneaking out of his parent’s house to meet up with his friends. They’d prepared dough and roasted it over open flames, laughing and chatting without a care in the world.

Estrov was burned to the ground and would never return, but Yassen still liked the idea of kindling a fire.

Lee had made a decision.

“You don’t have to come.”

Yassen looked at her, knowing she meant it.

“I won’t be needing your expertise,” she added. “It’s personal.”

She hadn’t needed his expertise in more than a decade, but Yassen appreciated the heads up. Personal was never good, not in their business. Not even in retirement. For Lee, certainly not in Tokyo.

He remembered the first time he’d met her, fifteen years ago on a mission. It had been in a hospital, and he’d been watching her for a few days. He needed to infiltrate a place and she had access. Access, but no apparent loyalty, and Yassen had money to spend. He had made an offer, she had accepted, and the job had gone off without a hitch. When they’d said goodbye, he hadn’t expected to see her again, but their world was small. It had been a pleasant surprise.

Lee had never made a name for herself; she had stayed invisible. Sometimes Yassen thought she’d made the better choice. She had perfected the act of harmless, dainty flower. That alone made her more deadly than most assassins Yassen knew.

Yassen could stay here, safe in the house he’d spent years and millions on. A fortress more than a home, but he’d come to like it. He’d drawn the plans himself to make sure he wouldn’t feel caged in. The windows had helped.

Yassen thought about it, carefully. He was slowly dropping lower on the wanted lists, but they hadn’t given up on him yet. Officially crossing borders was impossible for both of them.

“We could take the _Fer_ ,” he finally offered.

Lee tilted her head in consideration. Then a smile started tugging at her lips.

“I haven’t been sailing in a while. It could be nice.”

Yassen himself had to admit he had missed the _Fer de Lance_. Winter was not the best time to sail but neither him nor Lee were planning on swimming and sunbathing.

“We’ll take the _Fer_ ,” Lee agreed, unfurling herself from below the blanket, gathering the soft fabric in her hands and folding it up with military precision.

“I’m going for a run,” she announced before leaving the room.

Yassen considered taking her up on the unspoken offer. But outside the storm was doing its best to bend the trees, and he could just as well use the gym for a workout later. Carefully, he opened his book and smoothed a hand down the page, picking up where he’d left off.

In late November, Lee had asked Yassen when he’d been given a Christmas present for the last time. It took him almost a solid minute to answer.

“Estrov,” he finally said, because in Moscow, there had just been more vodka and that didn’t quite count.

“You?”

Lee must have thought about it before. The name still sounded raw from her lips.

“Katashi.”

Yassen didn’t comment.

Lee hadn’t been given a Christmas present in years. Neither had Yassen. In one of their many unspoken agreements, they’d bought presents for the other that Christmas.

Lee had gotten Yassen the second book of the Trisolaris trilogy, since he’d liked the Three-Body Problem so much.

“Both in Mandarin and in Cantonese?”

“So you can use it to learn,” she’d explained, and Yassen had to admit it was a good gift.

“Thank you.”

He’d gotten her two books as well.

One was Sun Tzu’s _The Art of War_ , the other was an anthology of Confucius’s work.

Lee had tilted her head slightly in question.

“I don’t know what you’re planning for Tokyo. So I wasn’t sure whether you would like a reminder of strategy, or the fact that before you embark on a journey of revenge, you should dig two graves.”

Lee’s smile was sharp, but she carefully put the books on the table in front of them.

“Thank you,” she replied.

The forest outside had been covered in a thick blanket of snow, making the dacha seem even more isolated from the world than usual. The tree branches were hanging low beneath their new weight, and there was still more snow falling.

* * *

Ruben Kovàcs had been born in Hungary, the fifth son of a poor family. He’d hoped that joining the army would be a way out of that poverty. He’d made an acceptable soldier, but his talents lay in different areas: finding intel, extracting it when necessary and piercing together a bigger picture. His commanding officer had realized that fairly soon and recommended him to the Alkotmányvédelmi Hivatal, the Hungarian Constitution Protection Office. They were responsible for counterintelligence, anticorruption and economic security. Ruben hadn’t been sent to college, but he’d learned a lot about international relations, politics and economics.

That’s why he had known enough to understand what it meant when someone approached him and introduced themselves as a SCORPIA operative. Ruben had joined the army to escape poverty. The Alkotmányvédelmi Hivatal paid well, but SCORPIA made him a better offer. It had been an easy decision.

Malagosto had been hard, but apparently a year or two ago a fourteen-year old had managed to graduate and if that wasn’t incentive to pull through, Ruben didn’t know what was. He was twenty-one and younger than most, but he made his way. Resistance to interrogation wasn’t easy, but the recruiter had been clear – you graduate Malagosto, or you die. Your choice.

Ruben had made his choice, and he hadn’t regretted it. For the first year after his graduation, most of his jobs were grueling. Anhur wasn’t as good of an assassin as some of the others, and since information was his specialty, SCORPIA sent him for assignments that could best be described as industrial espionage. Anhur didn’t complain. He had a debt of almost half a million dollars, and although he was living in luxury now, that number spurned him on. He watched it become less and less until it had vanished, until he had proven himself and was given more interesting missions.

_Infiltrate a CIA mission. Make sure they fail._ He’d done well, and he’d been paid six figures for that. It had been a revelation. SCORPIA could help him be more than he’d ever imagined, the only thing he needed to do was avoid mistakes.

When Alex Rider had called on him, Anhur had known better than to dally. Mr. Rider may not be Mr. Gregorovich, but he was his second in command and he was formidable despite his young age. During their first meeting, Ruben had made what he’d sworn himself to avoid – a stupid mistake. Alex Rider was an attractive man. Tall, lean, fit, muscular, confident.

He’d looked for just a moment too long, and Rider’s eyes had become considering. For half a second, Ruben had been scared. Rider could have him executed, but he’d only returned the gaze. It had been unexpected, and maybe, just maybe…there was a mutual interest there. Not that Ruben was willing to bank on that.

He’d excused himself, done his mission and when Rider had called him back to his personal suite for the debriefing, he’d had certain hopes. Not expectations but hopes. Ruben had read him right after all.

The night was pleasant. More importantly though, he got a look at Alex, the young man behind Mr. Rider, SCORPIA’s heir, Cossack’s apprentice, Mr. Gregorovich’s second in command. It had been eye-opening. Alex was young. He’d probably made a few experiences, but not many, and it showed. Ruben just hoped to show him a good time, let him relax. Anhur had a few ideas about how this connection to Mr. Rider might be of use, but Ruben had decided not to play that card. Sleeping your way up wasn’t the way to go, and besides-

He’d heard the rumors about Alex. Put through Malagosto at fourteen. (Now he could put a face to that legend.) Top of his class, because Mr. Gregorovich had trained him for months before that. Involved with various intelligence agencies as a child. Alex deserved some softness, Ruben decided. Or at least a partner who didn’t immediately try to exploit his position. Not to mention the consequences that partner would face once Alex inevitably found out he was being scammed.

Rumors were one of the few constants in SCORPIA, and sure enough, Anhur was suddenly much more respected now that he’d worked with Mr. Rider. Alex called him in for missions a few times more, and some other times he just called to ask if Ruben had some free time. Alex was always very careful to not make it sound like an order, and Ruben appreciated that.

If Alex had wanted to order someone, there were those who got trained in seduction at Malagosto. They surely wouldn’t have turned him down. Ruben had been lucky enough to hook up with one of those once. He had been called Marc, dark hair, magnetic eyes, perfect body, lips to die for. He was now working under the codename Cyrus. That had been…some pretty fucking fantastic sex. The best of his life, probably.

So he assumed that Alex’s interest had been genuine, and if it would have been a one time thing, that would have been fine. But Alex kept calling him when he wasn’t on assignment – or just finished up one – and Ruben kept taking these calls.

He met Alex in Miami, in a sprawling villa he didn’t even want to know the rent costs of. He had just finished a job in Ethiopia when Alex called him to Kairo. In Beijing Alex was just about to leave when Ruben arrived for an assignment, but Alex pulled some strings to make sure it would be fine if Anhur reported to the operation a day later.

This month, Ruben had taken some time off in New York. Alex had messaged him an address, a date and a question mark. Ruben wasn’t surprised when he found himself in a Manhattan penthouse, furnished in a way that was surely expensive, modern and in his honest opinion very cold and unpleasant.

The interior design didn’t really matter. Alex had greeted him with a smile and poured both of them a glass of good wine.

“How was your month?”

Ruben had sat down, reached for his wine and looked at Alex opposite of him. He was wearing tight jeans and a dark blue button-down. He looked good. Ruben wasn’t surprised Alex knew about his time off.

“I did some sight-seeing. The statue of liberty, Empire State Building. Visited the MET. Spend some time going out, dancing.”

He could see the flicker in Alex’s eyes, and grinned.

“I didn’t pick anyone up if you’re wondering.”

That made Alex’s eyes flicker again, with something that Ruben identified as…irritation? Alex was good at hiding his emotions, even though Ruben had known him for a couple months now.

“You’re free to do so if you want to.”

The tension was clear in the room, and Ruben took a sip of wine before he replied, thinking his answer through, making sure he wouldn’t be misunderstood.

“I know, but I didn’t want to.”

Alex looked back up at him, the hints of a smile curling his lips. The tension eased.

“I’m not…seeing anyone else either.”

Alex said it like it was a confession, but Ruben had expected it. If Alex had different options, he wouldn’t be bending the rules to make sure Ruben would be able to spend time with him. If Alex wouldn’t care beyond the sex, he’d ask Ruben to leave after. Instead, Alex usually let him stay until morning and would order breakfast for both of them. Sometimes, it was easy to forget Alex was almost five years younger than Ruben himself. Mr. Rider carried himself with self-assurance and complete confidence, Orion was terrifying and moved with a grace that reminded too much of Cossack to make anyone comfortable around him. But Alex was young, and Ruben appreciated that he was allowed to see beyond the masks of Orion and Mr. Rider.

He gave Alex a smile, put down his wine and moved to sit beside him. Alex was a little surprised, but he leaned into the soft kiss and let himself be pulled into Ruben’s lap. There were still things that were off limits – kissing Alex’s neck, holding his wrists, pinning him down. It made sense to Ruben, and it wasn’t a hassle. It was always worth it for those sweet moments when Alex shuddered against him, asked for more, fisted his hands in Ruben’s shirt or made those soft noises deep in his throat that signified he really liked something.

Right now, Alex was stripping off his own shirt, and Ruben’s followed suit. He was about to suggest they take this to the bedroom when Alex’s phone went off. Ruben had expected him to ignore it – Alex was in his lap, hard and panting, and people could wait for him, he was Mr. Gregorovich’s right hand – but Alex practically scrambled off him to get to the phone.

“Yes, sir.”

Ruben had never heard Alex speak like that – the clear respect in his voice, the deference, the loyalty. It was obvious who was on the other side of that call, and although Yassen Gregorovich had no way of knowing how disheveled Ruben currently was – or that he was even here - he still reached for his shirt to cover himself up again.

“The jet is chartered. We’re departing first thing tomorrow. Sagitta is with me.”

Ruben couldn’t hear what Mr. Gregorovich was saying, and he wasn’t trying to. He knew what he had to know for his missions. Alex’s missions were a few paygrades above that, and they were both very happy to avoid talking about work when possible.

Then Alex turned away from him, shaking his head a little, a habit many people had while speaking on the phone. Ruben faintly wondered if Alex was about to disagree with Mr. Gregorovich.

“No, I don’t need to spend the night.”

Ruben didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t happy about it, but he was smart enough to keep quiet.

“Yes, we’ll leave immediately. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll call you once we’re in the air.”

Another moment of silence.

“Yes, sir.”

Alex ended the call, took a breath deep enough his shoulders lifted for a moment, and then turned around. His smile was faintly apologetic, but mostly, he was all business. He reminded Ruben more of Mr. Rider right now, and he reacted accordingly. Luckily, he’d already put his shirt back on.

He picked up Alex’s shirt and tossed it over, Alex caught it easily and slipped it back on.

“I have to go.”

Ruben gave him an easy smile. He still wasn’t happy about it, but there was definitely no point in arguing with Mr. Gregorovich’s orders. It was stupid at best and suicidal at worst.

“Don’t worry about it. Orders are orders.”

Alex nodded for a moment, and Ruben almost expected him to step forward and give him a kiss goodbye. Instead, Alex looked at his phone, then around the room, seemingly calculating how quickly he could get things packed up and moving.

“Thanks for understanding. I’ll call you.”

Ruben nodded.

“See you around, Alex.”

Then he grabbed his jacket and made his way out. It wasn’t unreasonable of Alex to put orders from SCORPIA’s Head over getting laid. What surprised him was how easily Alex had made the decision – as if there was no decision to be made at all. Alex was young, and the ease with which he’d ignored his body’s demands was impressive.

Ruben had never encountered Mr. Gregorovich, but those who had didn’t describe him as a man who accepted anything but complete obedience. One could assume that Alex as his second in command and apprentice was held to different standards; that Alex enjoyed more leeway than others…but Ruben wasn’t sure about that. Maybe Alex was held to even stricter standards since he would one day be required to lead SCORPIA on his own.

Once he was out of the building, the cold air helped Ruben clear his mind. Alex was Mr. Gregorovich’s second in command. When he received an order, he followed it. Whatever had caused that change in plans was probably important. Way above Anhur’s paygrade important. There was no point in spending his time ruminating about it.

So he made his way back to his own hotel room in New York. Ruben didn’t feel like going out or doing much. Maybe he would just order some room service, catch up on Brooklyn Nine Nine and call it a night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greer Holdings is a mash-up of Gregorovich & Rider and this is exactly the kind of not quite romantic but thoughtful gesture Yassen would go for. (You cannot change my mind.)


	4. Empire Without Heirs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was like giving birth, people. I suffered for you. Be kind.
> 
> Special dedication to SlytherinBunBun, who made my day by telling me I actually inspired someone to read the Three-Body Problem. You really gave me motivation to see this through after despairing for almost two weeks.
> 
> (Also, of course, thanks to galimau. For always letting me yell at you when I need it.)

Despite the money and influence it brought to be the Head of SCORPIA, there was little one could actually indulge in.

Alex had gotten used to expensive hotel rooms, chartered jets and private yachts by the time he was sixteen, and while all those things were comfortable, they had never been what he wanted out of life. To Alex, indulging meant to keep clothing for longer than the mission it was bought for. It meant having a place to return to, a home. People you could trust, maybe even friends surrounding you. Most of these indulgences could get you killed, and that’s why you avoided them.

Last year, Yassen had given him SCORPIA. More importantly, though, Yassen had given Alex the _Bucephalus._ The _Bucephalus_ allowed him to have a home, one that he could move as needed. One where he could let people he loved stay, so when he came home, he’d also come back to his family. The _Bucephalus_ was big enough to give rooms to Jack, Tom and Sagitta. Jack had recently started dating Jet – or, Alex had recently realized she was dating Jet - and Alex liked the fact that Jack was dating again. That she had managed to adjust to everything, and that she was still part of his life. That he had her and Tom by his side, that he had Sagitta…it was good. It was a lot more than he’d dared to hope for when he’d started.

Alex had spent the last four weeks down in Colombia, making sure the deal Yassen had struck with the Blanco Cartel was renewed. It had been five years since the contracts had been signed, and it was up to Alex to re-negotiate. SCORPIA supplied mercenaries, combat teams and assassins to the cartel, but most importantly, they were responsible for the logistics of smuggling the cocaine up into Florida. Back when Yassen had made the deal, they had been one of the mid-sized cartels. Now, after five years and thanks to Yassen’s involvement, their value had more than quintupled. SCORPIA made hundreds of millions a year thanks to that deal.

Obviously, Alex had wanted to keep it that way. Raphael “Rafe” Blanco, the current cartel leader, had put two and two together and tried to push his advantage during his talks with Alex. Many of the things Alex had to do as Head of SCORPIA had become second nature. He didn’t hesitate anymore before ordering his enemies dead. He barely minded giving people to Crux for interrogation. But god was it ever tiring to deal with drug lords who thought they could get the better of him because he was making decent money off them.

Three weeks spent carefully walking the line between asserting himself and keeping a profitable client on board. Three weeks trying to remember how Yassen had managed to secure this deal in five days the last time around. During the second week, Alex had been incredibly tempted to draw his gun and just shoot Rafe when he’d asked if Jamie was still alive. Jamie, the “gift” they’d received last time. Yassen had accepted the human tribute with a simple nod, while Alex had been busy keeping his bile down.

Blanco was a disgusting man and Alex had half a mind to simply walk out on the deal, but he’d been trained better than that. There were ways to shorten the negotiations. Maybe, Blanco’s brother would suddenly disappear. Maybe, his young wife would get lost during one of her many shopping sprees. In the end, Alex had simply made sure the team in Florida happened to make a mistake. A shipment of a ton of product almost got found by the DEA.

Blanco understood the message as the warning it was: The cartel produced the product, but SCORPIA kept it safe. The negotiations came to a successful end, and Alex had raised the prices for his combat teams and operatives according to the contribution they made to the cartel’s success.

Even outside operations like that, leading SCORPIA was a challenge. But Alex had been prepared for that challenge for over a decade, and Yassen had never let him take the easy way out. His first year in charge was a flurry of meetings, decisions and operations. He’d slept less than he ever thought possible. But he managed, and managed well. It had cost him sweat, blood and tears to assure that. He couldn’t imagine Yassen ever having such a hard time.

But Marcus had been impressed. The high-ranking operatives in charge of major operations, drug rings or weapons trades had obeyed him without question. The intelligence world had updated their threat assessments and put Alex above Yassen. The recruits in Malagosto treated him like they used to treat Yassen, and Alex knew the world saw him differently than he saw himself.

Except for Jack and Tom, people didn’t really see Alex anymore. They saw Mr. Rider. He was who he needed to be to stay alive, keep SCORPIA strong, and affect the change he wanted to see in the world. It wasn’t easy, but no one had ever claimed it would be.

That was why he’d decided to indulge for his 26th birthday. He would be celebrating with all those dear to him. Only a handful of people, but that was more than most in this business had. A healthy amount of paranoia had led him to decide to have the party on the _Bucephalus_ , out on the sea. He’d decided spontaneously where they would go that evening. A hotel, any venue could have worked, but Alex wouldn’t take the risk. Not being who he was.

There had been a time when Yassen had generously avoided telling him how much money people would pay to have him killed. Once Alex had seen the eight figures Yassen was worth, he’d become curious. Now he checked the bounty on his head regularly, and it was too much money to take any chances. Back when he’d looked at it the first time, his own bounty had paled in comparison to Yassen’s. Now, the difference wasn’t that big anymore. The thought of someone paying to see him dead had stopped shocking Alex long ago. The realization that if current trends held people would want him dead more than Yassen in about a year was still plenty shocking, though.

Jack and Tom had taken it onto themselves to decorate the _Bucephalus_ – or rather, the main deck they’d use to celebrate in. It contained a large room with a bar, and they would be able to go outside without having to climb any stairs.

“In case the birthday boy gets drunk,” Tom had joked and winked at Alex, and Alex had smiled back. He’d only been drunk a handful of times. Yassen’s two drink rule was something he’d stuck to even after turning eighteen. He didn’t like the idea of not being in control.

That hadn’t kept Jack and Tom from getting balloons, festoons, and a big and embarrassing ribbon obviously made for a 6-year-old. On the plastic face, it said birthday boy in cartoonish letters. Among the understated wealth of the _Bucephalus_ – dark wood, white accents, creme leather – all their decorations looked cheesy, ridiculous and cheap. Alex had indulged them because he felt like it, but he’d put his foot down when he’d seen the ribbon.

“No. No, I’m not putting that on.”

Jack had grinned and held it out expectantly. Tom had merely stood by her side, silent support.

“Traitor,” Alex had hissed under his breath, and reached for the ribbon, aiming immediately for the bin by the door once he had it.

“Alex. Come on.” Jack had brought out that tone she had used so often when he was much younger and Alex could only roll his eyes in return.

“It makes me look ridiculous. It’ll ruin my suit. And do you know what this suit cost? It’s a Miu Miu.”

Tom merely gave a laugh. Jack seemed to know what it cost and looked more understanding.

“I don’t care what your Mew Mew suit cost, Alex. We joined a terrorist organization for you. You owe us.”

Alex gaped at him for a moment. Jack would never have pulled that card, she was practically a parent to him, but Tom didn’t have that sense of obligation. And there were days he still felt bad about having pulled them into this world, and his face must have given something away, because Jack shook her head a little.

“We’re happy to be here with you,” she said. Tom caught on quickly.

“Yeah, of course we are, mate! I was just kidding.”

The tone was only slightly more serious, but it was all Alex needed. It had been a joke, not an actual bitterness still lingering. He gave a smile in return.

“Fine, I’ll wear it.” He’d pinned it to his suit and that had been that.

Tom had grinned, Jack had been smug, and Alex had enough money to buy a small country. The suit could be replaced. More importantly, only friendly faces would be around – no one here would lose respect for the Head of SCORPIA because he wore a ribbon that said ‘Birthday Boy’. Except for Alex, who seriously questioned his station as their boss.

“You look good,” Jack said every time she saw Alex with it on, and her own unruly hair was tamed for once, red curls artfully styled to fall over her shoulders. The black dress she wore was simple but elegant and Alex had taken to simply replying “So do you.”

He’d learned to pick his battles long ago. Tom and Sagitta were around as well, and all of them were wearing suits. Somewhere along the way, Alex’s birthday had gone from a few drinks with friends to an even with dress code, but Alex was just happy to have them around. To have Jack make him do embarrassing stuff, to have Tom tease him about his non-existent resistance to alcohol.

While they were setting up inside, Alex had gone outside to get some fresh air and escape the taunts for a moment. Marcus had come with him. It was February, but they were in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea with little wind, and the air was surprisingly mild.

“Suit looks good, Boss,” Marcus said, with that half-grin that told Alex all he needed to know.

“Thanks,” he gave back, tempted to rip the stupid ribbon of, but too fond of Jack’s happy smile to actually follow through.

The sun had already gone down, and past the light from the _Bucephalus_ , there was nothing but inky darkness surrounding them. Tom had apparently just managed to get the stereo going, because music started to play in the background, softly flowing towards them just like the gentle light through the glass of the doors.

“Reminds me a little of your sixteenth, when Mr. Gregorovich had his team on the _Fer de Lance_ pick us up, so we’d be there for your birthday.”

Alex chuckled. He remembered the day well.

“I can’t believe it’s been ten years.” he replied, and Marcus nodded.

It had been nice. Jack, Sagitta, Yassen, all the people he cared about together and happy to celebrate. And now Tom was here, too.

“Mr. Gregorovich should be arriving soon.”

Alex nodded and smiled. He wondered how Marcus would react to the mental image of Yassen in his dacha, sitting peacefully in his living room, reading books and learning yet another language. Probably with disbelief. Most people seemed to have trouble picturing Yassen as anything but an assassin or the Head of SCORPIA.

The sound of the waves lapping at the bow of the _Bucephalus_ was calming, but Tom’s rather annoying song selection destroyed that effect. Even over the background noise, Alex had been able to hear the footsteps of guards a few moments ago, though. They should be back any second now. When the sounds of waves and music were the only ones for another thirty seconds, Alex drew his weapon. Marcus looked slightly surprised.

“The guards,” Alex murmured under his breath, and to his credit, it only took Marcus a few seconds to realize it was their absence that had Alex on edge. The sharp, clear and efficient mindset of Orion settled comfortably around him, the adrenaline in his veins doing the rest. Alex took a deep breath and his hands were steady as he checked his magazine routinely and switched off the safety of his weapon.

Turning around, Alex realized that two lights were off on the starboard side. He had doubted it was coincidence to begin with. Now he was sure it wasn’t. Marcus drew his gun as well. Alex was rapidly going through the options in his head. Scouting it out himself was the first idea he had. It was abandoned immediately. The risk for both himself and SCORPIA was too high. Sending Marcus was the second option. But he was just one man. If someone had made it onto the _Bucephalus_ , they could probably kill Marcus. Not feasible. Third option: sound the alarm, send Marcus ahead, get inside himself. There was only one reason worth the trouble of infiltrating the _Bucephalus_. Taking out the Head of SCORPIA himself. If Alex wanted to foil their plans, he was much safer inside.

Before Alex could open his mouth to give his orders, before he so much as took a single step away from the railing, he could feel a small, tiny pinprick of pain at the left side of his neck. The pain was far from the worst he’d ever felt. Nevertheless, he reached for it immediately, pulling out the small, sharp dart. Coldness started to spread through Alex’s body.

Orion’s rational mindset told him there were a dozen different poisons potent enough his death had already become inevitable. He doubted someone would send an assassin here with anything but a toxin acting fast enough to take him out. Or with a toxin that could be cured. Marcus, upon seeing the small projectile, seemed to come to the same conclusion. Within seconds he was by Alex’s side, dragging him towards the doors. Alex didn’t resist. His body felt numb.

“Let’s get you inside, boss. Have medical check you out. I’ll send someone to deal with this.” Marcus’ voice was almost perfectly even. Only years of knowing him let Alex recognize the concern in it.

A very well-executed hit, he couldn’t help but think. Effective. He had been way too slow to react. Fear was nothing new to Alex, but over the past years, he had learned to control it. Now, he was spiralling slowly out of control. With him dead, SCORPIA would fall apart. There was no second in command to take over for him. The CIA and MI6 would be the first to move in, but once his death was public, other vultures would swoop in to feast on the body of a beast they hadn’t been able to tame in four decades.

One year. Alex would have survived exactly one year as SCORPIA’s head. It was a rather disappointing verdict. He wondered what Yassen’s verdict would be. He could practically hear the sharp _Unacceptable_ in the back of his mind.

Maybe it was the thought of Yassen that forced him back into action. There was no point in pity. If he couldn’t save his life, maybe he could at least take his attacker with him.

Alex was still holding the dart, remembering the exact way it had hit him. Almost as if…he looked up, stopped moving. Marcus looked concerned, calculating. Decided that clearly the poison was starting to work. That Alex wasn’t really making decisions anymore. He dragged him forwards with more force, but Alex dug his heels in.

“I’m still lucid. Wait.”

His words surprised Marcus enough to stay still for a moment, but Alex knew he didn’t have long. However, he did feel surprisingly good, now that he’d made the choice to do something.

The dart looked like it was fired from a blowpipe. Alex had learned to use them at Malagosto. The range on them was notoriously short. There was only one place the attacker could be. Humans, when surveying their environment, rarely looked up. They had no natural predators attacking them from above and had never developed the instinct.

Alex looked up to the next level of the _Bucephalus_ , which had significant overhang. Had he stayed close to the doors; the attacker would never have been able to reach him. But from where he had been standing, right at the bow of the ship, he made the perfect target. The wind was still. An easy hit.

Alex looked up, and the figure was just quick enough to turn away and avoid Marcus’ shot. The sound of that startled the people inside, and Jarek and Mace came running.

Something about the attacker was familiar. The way they moved. Quick, graceful – Malagosto. No, Alex knew where every single Malagosto graduate was right now.

But something was wrong. He felt no effects from the poison at all. From this distance, they could have shot him. Easier, quicker. No chance of an antitoxin being found. They could have taken out Marcus and him.

None of this added up. Getting on board the _Bucephalus_ was practically impossible. No one would take that risk and then bring a blowpipe when a gun would have worked just as well.

That assassin. Quick. Graceful. _Short_. The pieces started falling into place.

“Happy Birthday, Alex,” a voice came from the upper level, and Alex knew that voice. He’d only heard it speak Russian so far, but there was no doubt.

“Lee?”

“Yes.”

Marcus raised both eyebrows at him. Alex gave him a half smile. There was, of course, the option that Lee had betrayed Yassen and was now working for someone else. The fact she had access to the _Bucephalus_ and that she hadn’t shot to kill suggested otherwise, though.

“Yassen sent you.”

“He did.”

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. A lesson, then. Some of the tension returned, when he remembered just what kind of consequences Yassen’s lessons could have.

“Was the dart poisoned?”

“What do you think?”

Her voice sounded faintly amused.

“No. There was nothing on it.”

Alex sounded a lot more confident than he felt. The silence that followed almost made him reconsider. Yassen had tested him, and he had failed. But Yassen wouldn’t poison him for that, would he? He wouldn’t kill Alex for a mistake, but he did usually let Alex face the consequences of his failures.

“You’re right.”

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Marcus relaxed fractionally. He still held his gun at the ready, though. Alex motioned for him to put it away. He had more questions, but the noise of an approaching helicopter interrupted him. It could only be Yassen. The noise when the helicopter landed made it hard to hear each other, so they simply kept silent. Alex assumed that Yassen would want to talk to him, anyway. He could feel shame curling low in his stomach.

Lee slowly came out of hiding, and when Marcus didn’t shoot at her again, she made her way down onto their level with one fluid jump over the railing. Her impact on the floor barely made a sound. Marcus, Mace and Jarek all had their weapons pointed at her, but she seemed remarkably at ease. She was wearing a black neoprene suit and seemed to have left the blowpipe on the upper level. When the rotors started to slow down, it was possible to talk again. Alex knew that Marcus, Jarek and Mace all had questions, but they were too professional to ask.

“She’s not a real threat. Yassen sent her.”

Lee looked almost amused at his words. Alex was still holding the dart she’d managed to shoot right into his neck in his hand, after all. Then he remembered what had alerted him to her presence in the first place.

“Did you kill the guards?”

“No, I just knocked them out.”

It was relieving, but not a surprise. Yassen wouldn’t waste resources that easily. The guards on the _Bucephalus_ were incredibly well-trained after all.

None of Sagitta had lowered their weapons, Alex suddenly realized. The situation was almost laughable, Lee was a full head shorter than all of them, seemingly unarmed, and probably didn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds. She wasn’t that much of a threat.

Except that she’d made it on board, knocked out enough guards to stay undetected, and could have killed Alex had she wanted to.

The wait until Yassen made it out of his helicopter and to where they were waiting for him seemed incredibly long, although Alex assumed that realistically it wasn’t more than two minutes. When Yassen arrived, it was with Shale beside him, who must have welcomed him at the helicopter. Yassen looked good, wearing a dark blue suit with a white dress shirt and black tie. Over his shoulder was a black bag, and he took the scene in with what must look like a completely unreadable facial expression to most.

Alex was able to pick up on his amusement just fine. Between him and Lee, at least two people were enjoying this party.

“Happy Birthday, Alex.”

His voice was calm and unagitated, paying just as much attention to the raised guns as Lee had before. Which was to say, little to none.

“Thank you,” Alex replied, “I’m glad you came.”

Yassen tilted his head in acknowledgement and then focused on Lee.

“She’s here on my orders. She won’t harm Alex or anyone else.”

At his words, Sagitta slowly lowered their weapons. Lee moved towards Yassen, who handed the black bag over his shoulder to her without question.

“I’d like a word, Alex.”

Alex had expected that. He looked at Jarek and Mace.

“Check on the starboard guards. This level and the one above us.”

He looked over at Lee. She knew exactly what he wanted.

“The two below us as well.”

Mace and Jarek nodded and started moving. Alex looked at Marcus.

“Marcus, why don’t you accompany Lee inside.”

Marcus seemed inclined to argue but didn’t. Instead, he put away his gun and nodded.

“Yes, boss.”

He motioned for Lee to follow him, and with the bag she’d received from Yassen over her shoulder, she followed him inside.

Once Mace, Jarek, Marcus and Lee had left, Alex turned to Yassen. Yassen moved to stand at the bow of the ship, and Alex reluctantly followed. He’d just learned how vulnerable to attacks this spot was, after all. Against his better knowledge, he started defending himself.

“It’s impressive to pull this off at all, but no one except you could have done it. You knew the plans of the _Bucephalus_. You made sure Lee’s suit would hide her from thermal imaging. You had a rough idea of where guards were stationed, even if they switch schedules regularly. You were invited. I personally messaged you the coordinates.”

Yassen merely raised an eyebrow, and Alex had the distinct feeling he wasn’t going to like his answer.

“It was a complex task, but far from impossible.”

Alex raised both eyebrows.

“I want to know exactly how you did it.”

Yassen simply gave a nod and started talking. He seemed to have expected it.

“Let’s assume I were a total stranger with no knowledge of you or the _Bucephalus_ beyond what is available to the intelligence world. When I had the _Bucephalus_ commissioned, I paid the companies involved in her construction to accidentally lose the plans after everything was done. But I’m sure you’ve had a look at the various pieces of equipment, and many of them were added through subcontractors. I assumed that no one can know for sure that there isn’t some subcontractor out there who has the full layout. I found one after only three weeks of searching. That’s the plans of the _Bucephalus_ done.”

Yassen paused for a moment.

“On that note, I found another three sub-contractors who hold at least partial prints of the _Bucephalus_ after installing various equipment. I’ll give you the list so you can take care of them. I already made sure the ones I got the layout from won’t be an issue anymore.”

Alex nodded. He would make sure that security issue was taken care of. Yassen continued.

“Then I had a look at the plans and the equipment listed on it. However, I needed something that would get me someone on board. A part of the ship that required maintenance and was complex enough that you would have to allow non-SCORPIA personnel on board. That would enable me to get access to someone who would be on board for some time, but not fully aware of the results treason would bring.”

Alex knew despite the complete absence of satisfaction or triumph from Yassen’s voice that he’d been successful.

“Someone sold me out.”

“Yes. The weakness in any system is always the human component. The _Bucephalus_ is new and didn’t need any major maintenance that our own people couldn’t conduct, so my first plan fell flat. But stealth technology is constantly evolving and is highly secretive. The public knows what the US Air Force used to stealth their SR-71 in the 1970s and not much else. But recently, there’s been a new development in radar absorbent material coatings. The company who developed it and is currently the only one in the world selling it isn’t quiet about their achievements. They openly advertise to attract clientele wealthy enough to buy. It is extremely expensive but incredibly effective and I knew that the crew currently manning the _Bucephalus_ would be aware of it. There aren’t many non-governmental organizations able to afford this kind of technology, so it was easy to keep an eye on their incoming orders. Even easier to figure out that someone wanting to stealth a private luxury yacht bordering on warship, perfectly fitting the plans I had stolen before, would probably be my target.”

Alex had been looking out over the sea. There was nothing for miles, just the inky black sea barely illuminated by the light from the _Bucephalus_ and the soft sound of waves. Now, he turned towards Yassen.

“What you need is a hobby, Yassen.”

Yassen gave a half smile.

“I have read dozens of books, I am nearly fluent in Cantonese, and I have started to study Aerospace engineering.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “And yet you needed to plan a hit in the meantime.”

Yassen shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to stay sharp and it was a welcome challenge. After all, I had the _Bucephalus_ commissioned. No security system is perfect, but I wanted to know how long it would take me to defeat one I came up with myself.”

Alex sighed. “At least tell me it would have been an expensive hit.”

Yassen nodded. “Definitely. I spent months on it. And almost two million in bribes.”

“Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

Alex turned to look at Yassen with a smile. Yassen shook his head.

“No. You know your bounty. It’s exactly what competitors, intelligence agencies, and independent assassins are willing to do now to see you dead.”

Alex’s smile slowly subsided. Yassen was right.

“Then tell me who sold me out.”

“His name is John Gower. He’s on board right now.”

Yassen opened a flip phone, the old-fashioned kind you got for a couple bucks everywhere these days, with no internet access. He offered it to Alex who took it without hesitation. The last two messages contained the same coordinates. The traitor had sent them to Yassen even before Alex had. Yassen hadn’t needed to get the coordinates from someone else to teach Alex a lesson. Alex would have sent them. The only reason Yassen had gone through all this trouble – had effectively sentenced the man to death – was so he could prove to Alex that no place on earth, not even the _Bucephalus_ , was safe. Alex handed the phone back, his face carefully blank. Yassen put it back into his pocket before continuing.

“The company hired to apply the RAM coatings usually sends an engineer first to determine the costs of everything, which surfaces will have to be prepared, which will be hard to work on, and so on. John Gower is one of their engineers. Graduated Stanford top of his class, makes a small fortune with his job. He needs to, because he likes gambling a lot. Recently, his mother has fallen ill with cancer. Her and John’s father are hopelessly underinsured. Now, if John weren’t a gambler, he would have had enough saved by now to pay for any treatment. But he was reckless, and he needed money. He would be on board the _Bucephalus_ for almost two whole weeks to make his assessments and calculations, and during this time, the _Bucephalus_ would be safely moored in Alexandria. Away from Malagosto, because strangers would be on board. But then you decided to indulge for your birthday party. By that time, the crew was familiar with John. He was harmless, and rather charming, and they figured if they made sure he wouldn’t be on the same level as you, nothing would happen. Not that he would be any threat to you, anyway. I contacted him and offered him a million in advance and a million after the job was done. He didn’t take much convincing. I’m almost sure he was aware that he wouldn’t survive this since he made me pay the first half directly into his parents’ bank account. He’s been very useful and highly cooperative.”

“I’m sure he’ll be just as useful for Crux’s lessons,” Alex mused. The current class hadn’t had the chance to see Crux at work yet. At least John Gower would be useful to SCORPIA in some way.

Yassen merely tilted his head in acknowledgement.

“The rest was simple. I bribed the harbour master in Alexandria to inform me about your comings and goings. If the ship would have spontaneously left, I would have known. I was informed about your arrival at the port. The helicopter I rented had stealth technology as well and was rather quiet. I hired a talented assassin. I dropped her off a mile away from the ship. I made sure she would be protected from the thermal imaging I knew existed because of the plans I had. Her suit contained magnets to allow her to scale the outside of the ship. I had considered involving Sagitta at first and letting them be my eyes and ears on the ship, but I think we both know they’d die before betraying you.”

Yassen paused for a moment.

“It was too easy.”

Alex raised both eyebrows. Yassen was probably the best assassin alive. Alex knew SCORPIA’s operatives, he knew intelligence agencies and competitors. Alex knew the best people to hire when someone needed to go. None of them even came close.

“It wasn’t easy. Look at the resources, time and money you spent on it.”

Yassen turned towards him, eyes cold and serious.

“Anything short of impossible is too easy, Alex. You’re a primary target for every intelligence agency on this planet. Two millions in bribes is nothing to spend on seeing you dead. There’s competitors who’d sink ten-times that into a mission like this and would call it a good investment. Your stunt with the DEA to bring the Blanco Cartel in line was on the news. You’ve become arrogant and sloppy. Neither are acceptable.”

Alex was about to loudly disagree, argue with his successes and youth, tell Yassen exactly what he’d accomplished. He wanted to point out he’d gotten the re-negotiations done, even if it wasn’t to Yassen’s standards. But he knew it would just prove Yassen right. His patience was fraying at its edges, but he was still in control.

“What if we wouldn’t have gotten the new stealth coating?”

“There would have been maintenance at some point. I could have waited. Your enemies will wait.”

Alex thought about other things that only Yassen would have known, but Yassen had spent time and money to do the job properly: To assure he couldn’t just do this because he knew the _Bucephalus_. Alex would see a man tortured as an example not to cross him. Yassen could have easily involved Sagitta but didn’t, because that would have allowed Alex to claim no one else could have pulled it off. There were still very few people on earth who could. Alex couldn’t think of anyone of the top of his head, and he employed some of the best assassins in the world. But there was someone as good as Yassen out there or would emerge at some point. It was only a matter of time. He was angry, mostly at himself.

“Alex.”

The calm patience in that word reminded Alex of a time when he was much, much younger.

“What?”, he snapped.

“Never believe your own legend. It’s a lie you tell the world to keep yourself alive. Other people should fall for it, but never you.”

Alex could feel the last thin strand holding his temper in check tear in two.

“Why not, Yassen? I am the youngest Malagosto graduate ever. I became your second in command at fifteen. I was leading missions that made SCORPIA millions by sixteen. None of it is a lie. I did all these things. I made a name for myself because you told me to.”

Yassen’s voice was far too soft for Alex to feel comfortable. It reminded him of the calm before the storm.

“Yes, you did become my second in command at fifteen. You also had regular breakdowns that I needed to whisk you away for so no one would catch on.”

Alex’s mouth snapped shut. He knew it would be pointless to fight with Yassen. Especially when Yassen was right anyway.

“So you came here to teach me a lesson.”

Alex had been focused on the darkness of the night sky to avoid Yassen’s eyes. Then Yassen reached out to touch Alex’s chin. Alex let his head be turned by careful fingers until he was looking at the other man.

“Yes, it was a lesson. But I also came because I care about your safety.”

The words were genuine and hit Alex right between his ribs, where they bloomed into something warm and tender. For another moment, Yassen’s fingers remained on his chin before he let go.

“Whatever path you want to go down, whichever direction you want to take SCORPIA in, that is for you to decide. But I have spent a decade making sure you stay alive, and I won’t watch you die now.”

Alex was angry at himself. He knew Yassen’s idea of taking care of people wasn’t necessarily the usual approach. Yassen would have broken his neck before letting Three have him if his early treasonous thoughts had become known. This was perfectly in line with that. And Yassen was right. He’d thought himself untouchable. He’d survived too many assassination attempts unscathed. He’d gotten reckless.

He could have stopped this from being successful by simply not going outside. By not using the _Bucephalus_ while strangers were on board. Every security system could be beaten, but if Alex didn’t at least give his best, then he didn’t need to be surprised to find a gun pressed to his head. Or, in this case, a dart in his neck.

Yassen had given him SCORPIA and the _Bucephalus_ at the same time. One was work. A necessity, but still a gift worth billions. The other was a home, as close as someone in their business could ever come to having one. As close to safety as possible. But it didn’t maintain itself. Alex would have to do that.

“Thank you.”

Yassen looked at him, his lips curled in the approximation of a smile. He knew his message had been received.

“How did you avoid falling for your own legend?”

Alex asked the question before thinking about it, but Yassen and him had a different relationship these days. Now that Alex knew what it meant to lead SCORPIA on his own, it felt like he’d reached another milestone. Yassen and himself were the only people who knew what it felt like to be solely responsible for an institution like SCORPIA.

“I reminded myself of where I started,” Yassen replied simply. “When I was in my early twenties, I was doing dirty wetwork for Julia Rothman. I’ve been in the business for years before Cossack became a name to be feared. I never forgot where I came from.”

Alex tried to think of where he started – fourteen years old, a child spy for MI6. Once he’d been at SCORPIA, thanks to his association with Yassen, he’d immediately entered the upper echelons. Frankly, Alex didn’t want to know what _dirty wetwork_ meant to Yassen. The man hadn’t flinched at the prospect of helping kill thousands of school children. But he’d never been able to not ask the tricky questions.

“What’s the difference between assassinations and wetwork?”

Yassen didn’t turn to look at him. His gaze seemed to be fixed on some faraway point in the darkness that Alex couldn’t begin to determine.

“Assassinations are effective and precise. Wetwork is messy. That’s just my definition, though. Plenty of operatives use them synonymously.”

Alex wasn’t unaware of the fact that he had been given an easy way into SCORPIA. Certainly a lot easier than Yassen, with Hunter dead and revealed to have been a traitor. Julia Rothman couldn’t take revenge on the man who’d betrayed her, but his apprentice must have been the next best thing.

“You’ve never had a look at my file?”

Yassen sounded more surprised than Alex had heard him in a while. Alex pressed his lips together. He’d wanted to, multiple times. To find out if Lee showed up during past missions. To refamiliarize himself with the Blanco Cartel. But it had always felt like an invasion of privacy. Besides that, there had been another reason.

“Before his retirement, Dr. Three told me to read it. So I never did.”

Alex had spent years around Dr. Three. Whatever the man had tried to achieve, he’d most likely succeeded if Alex had followed his wish. So instead of playing a game he could only ever lose, he’d simply chosen not to play. Besides, Alex was confident to say that he’d been around for Yassen’s biggest hits: Becoming a member of the executive board, killing the board, becoming the sole Head of SCORPIA, reshaping it after his wishes, The Glaive Incident, The Blanco Cartel. Yassen’s face was carefully blank when he turned to Alex.

“Of course he did. I didn’t delete it for a good reason, though. My past reports on various operations might prove useful to you, and in case someone ever tries to tell you less than the truth, you can check for yourself.”

Alex nodded. Maybe he would once he had the time. He doubted that he would like what he’d find. In any case, Yassen seemed unconcerned about Alex finding out about his past.

“Another reason for my lesson was to remind you of the importance of contingency plans. Right now, you have no second in command, no lieutenants who could form a new board. You’re young, but you should think about how you’ll find a successor, and who can fill in when you’re gone.”

Of that particular problem, Alex had been aware for quite a while. He had just thought about it again while he thought he might die. Alex had Marcus to discuss military strategy with and James for administrative tasks, but he didn’t have someone to be his Second like he had been for Yassen. It wasn’t easy to pick someone. Before he could say anything else, he had to suppress a yawn. For the first time that day, he realized how weary he was.

“I’m know. I’ve been thinking about it.”

Alex’s voice was tired. The adrenaline and subsequent anger were gone, and now he felt simply exhausted. All he wanted was to go inside and finally celebrate. Yassen turned to him and seemed to see the same. Besides, he had made his point. He nodded.

“Alright. Then let’s go celebrate your birthday.”

* * *

When Marcus accompanied Lee inside, he decided not to have her walk through the bigger room they had prepared for the party. She was still leaving wet footprints, but most importantly she was an assassin and there was a civilian in there. A civilian Alex cared a lot about.

Marcus didn’t trust Lee, but since she belonged to Gregorovich, it was unlikely she would kill someone close to Alex just because she could. They made their way through the softly lit, carpeted hallways of the ship, and Lee made no effort to hide that she was having a look around.

Marcus led her to an empty cabin with a small bathroom attached. He assumed she’d want a shower.

“Thank you,” she said, looking up at him with a friendly smile before disappearing into the room.

Standing just a few feet away from her really drove home how short she was. She seemed rather young as well. It was hard to gauge her age. She could be anywhere from five to fifteen years younger than Gregorovich. She couldn’t be one of SCORPIA’s, but if Gregorovich had hired her personally, she clearly had some kind of reputation in the world of assassins.

Marcus spend about twenty minutes waiting. The shower ran for a few minutes, and then it was quiet. He was surprised to hear her call out to him.

“Marcus? Could you help me for a moment?”

His first reaction was suspicion. What could she possibly need help with?

“What is it?”

“My dress.”

Marcus blinked, then the door opened inward. It was Lee, in a floor length dress, tight and black and hugging her hips perfectly.

“Help me with the zipper, please?”

She was already swiping her hair to the side – it was long, falling down to her hips in black, luscious curls – and turning around. Once she had her hair falling over her left shoulder, he could see the back of the dress, the tiny zip. He stepped closer.

That she was presenting her neck to him, slender and breakable, despite the fact she’d just knocked out multiple guards and faux conspired to kill Alex was a power play, and an easy win for her. Still, his eyes lingered on the one lock of her hair she hadn’t swept to the side, its black a stark contrast to smooth, pale skin. Marcus blinked his eyes and remembered the dread when Alex had plucked that little dart from his neck.

“Sure,” he said, voice perfectly neutral, and closed the distance between them. He realized she must have put on heels, because she was a lot closer to his height now than before. Carefully, he draped the errant strand of hair over to the left before reaching for the zipper. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the surely expensive material didn’t leave room for one, either. He kept his eyes on where the zipper was slowly sliding towards its end, hiding more and more of her perfectly pale, smooth skin. Marcus knew he could have moved faster. That was another round she’d won. Not that he’d ever let her know. When she turned around, a knowing glint in her eye, he felt like it he’d miserably failed already.

The bodice of the dress was covered in flower petals made of stiff fabric, starting at her right waist and ending over her left shoulder. It looked amazing.

“Thank you. Let’s go to the party?”

“Yes.” Marcus found himself agreeing before thinking about it. She smiled and let him take the lead once more.

Unfailingly polite, with a smile made for a magazine. She looked like a model. High heels, a dress too tight to fight in and no visible weapons. It was tempting to see her as harmless, even knowing what she could do, even knowing Mr. Gregorovich had hired her personally. What a neat little trick.

When they made their way back to the party, the news must have already made the rounds. Alex was still outside, speaking to Mr. Gregorovich. Lee didn’t seem to care. Slowly, she started moving around the room, introducing herself to Jack and Jet first. Marcus followed her a round, at a distance, but still keeping an eye on her. He didn’t trust her one bit. She had just attacked Alex and still went on to socialize at his birthday party as if nothing had happened. The sense of awkwardness did disappear sooner than Marcus had anticipated.

The evening was nice enough. Alex eventually came inside, Mr. Gregorovich behind him. Alcohol was flowing freely, Tom kept turning the music louder, but Marcus stayed sober. Alex was the Head now, but slacking around Mr. Gregorovich, especially after that lesson, was not an option. Lee did stay close to him, eyes alert and watchful. She clearly wasn’t just around for company. Not that that seemed to endear her to Alex.

Marcus realized that Alex seemed rather unhappy. He was doing a good job hiding it, but he’d known him for a while. There were many possible reasons, but Marcus hadn’t forgotten the steady stream of blonde, blue-eyed, Eastern European or Russian lovers that Alex had had over the years. He highly doubted Mr. Gregorovich had missed that, either. Bringing a petite Asian woman to Alex’s birthday party as his company was certainly one way of making his disinterest known.

* * *

Alex spent his time chatting, nursing a single drink, and trying not to eye Yassen and Lee too often. It was his party. Yassen Gregorovich showing up had turned it from a small celebration to a formal affair. It came as no surprise when Yassen announced that he was leaving a few hours later. After he was gone, Alex was sure, people would start drinking and relaxing. Yassen let him know that him and Lee would go sailing for the foreseeable future, and left Alex with the number to a secure phone he could call in case anything happened. There was a vague mention of Tokyo being their goal, and Alex nodded.

Yassen had taken the time to talk to him outside and left Lee in charge of keeping the conversation going once they’d come inside. Alex knew that him and Yassen had spoken more than they had since he’d last visited the dacha. But their only topics had been security and his need for a second in command. They’d barely brushed Yassen’s past. Yassen had followed his invitation, and somehow Alex still wasn’t satisfied.

He accompanied them outside to say his goodbyes and watched Yassen help Lee into the helicopter. An unnecessary gesture since he’d seen her leap of the railing earlier. It never hurt to be polite, but Alex’s mouth tasted sour just watching it.

Before they took off, Yassen raised his hand to him in greeting. Something ached in Alex’s chest, raw and tender. Yassen very obviously cared about him. He had taken the time to walk him through every step of his plan, to make sure Alex would be able to make the _Bucephalus_ even more secure. Yassen trusted him with SCORPIA and had given him his travel plans so Alex could arrange for safety or extraction if necessary. They had come a long way.

And yet, when Yassen raised his hand in greeting, it reminded him of the first time they’d met. More than a decade ago, when Yassen had decided to shoot Sayle instead of him. Alex remembered the hate he’d felt, burning like fire inside him. It had long since fizzled out. He had changed since then. The world had changed. But when he raised his hand in return and watched Yassen leave, he suddenly felt younger than he had in years.

Alex Rider knew how the world worked. He was running part of it. But even after more than a decade with Yassen Gregorovich, he still felt like he barely knew the man.


	5. Good For The Pain I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’ve got a few announcements for this one.
> 
> First and foremost, galimau is amazing and the best muse anyone could hope for.
> 
> Secondly, there are some content warnings for this chapter. A detailed list is in the notes at the end of the chapter. Since they do spoil some of the plot, this is the more generalized warning that we’re going to have some ugly stuff to deal with this chapter. Also a reminder that [Closer Contact](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154785?view_adult=true) by galimau is considered canon in this, and you should at least know what happens in the story if you haven’t read it. (Although you should totally read it because it’s brilliant.)
> 
> Another point: This fic is tagged Yalex for a reason, but it is not a sweet love story. It is as much Yassen’s story as it is Alex’s, if not more. There are lots of serious topics from Yassen’s past we’ll be dealing with. Please keep that in mind.

After Alex’s birthday party, Yassen and Lee left the Bucephalus to fly back to Alexandria where they boarded the _Fer de Lance_. Their trip to Tokyo would take a while, but they would stay anonymous and avoid official border control. Besides, they had the time. Retirement did come with advantages.

They spent their days sparring, reading and learning. Just like they had at the dacha, they would often sit together in the biggest room of the Fer, with a mounted tv and a comfortable couch in front of it. Yassen was sitting on one end, Lee had curled up on the other. She had been reading Confucius for a few days now. Yassen took that as a good sign.

“Not in the mood for war, then?”

Lee gave him a thin smile.

“I think I’m not quite ready to dig that second grave.”

Yassen nodded once, ready to go back to his own book, when she addressed him.

“Yassen. I was wondering about Alex.”

He raised a curious eyebrow. Lee knew what everyone knew about Alex, but Yassen hadn’t shared anything personal about him beyond what she needed to know for her attack on him on board the _Bucephalus_.

“It’s hard to miss how he looks at you.”

There was slight surprise in her voice, letting him know she hadn’t expected it. Alex had been his apprentice, his protégé, his Second in Command, his heir. She had known Yassen was fond of him. She had expected that fondness to be returned. She hadn’t expected to see the kind of longing, want and devotion that had been obvious in Alex Rider’s eyes whenever he thought no one was watching.

But Yassen didn’t move to put his book down. She knew that tell: The conversation was over before it had begun.

“I’m aware,” Yassen said, before focusing back on his current page. Lee did the same. There was no getting Yassen to talk if he didn’t want to. But Yassen wasn’t reading, either. He was remembering his mission in Tokyo instead, fifteen years ago.

At the age of thirty Cossack was widely acknowledged to be one of the best contract killers in the world. Maybe the best. The kind of man who was useful not just for assassinations, but to take care of problems of all kinds that presented themselves. Versatile, skilled, deadly, ruthless. Effective, above all. The only downside to hiring him was the price tag. He belonged to SCORPIA, and they charged a small fortune for their regular Malagosto graduates. Someone like Cossack came at a much, much steeper price.

Cossack had started out with the childish wish to prove Hunter wrong, but that had lost its meaning long ago. The opinion of a failed double agent held little weight for him now. He’d only needed about a year to pay back his Malagosto debt. With twenty-four he had been free of his exclusive contract, but even then he’d stuck mostly to SCORPIA vetted missions. Working freelance came with its own set of problems: All weapons, information, transportation, and identity documentation had to be acquired by him. The cost in time and money was one thing. The other was that he lacked SCORPIA’s resources to verify clients. By twenty-four Cossack was known in the underworld, and had a solid idea of how things worked, but he had lacked the influence he would have later. Besides, SCORPIA’s executive board would never forgive Hunter’s betrayal, but they had started to see Cossack as the profitable operative he was. He could pick his own missions now, and he quite liked that. Operations that took him across the world, to countries he wanted to see and cities he wanted to visit. And everywhere, he took someone’s life.

By the time he turned thirty, Cossack had started taking mostly missions that weren’t fully prepared because SCORPIA’s analysts were lacking information. At the beginning of a Malagosto graduate’s career, operations were usually well-prepared. An identity had been created, flight tickets were booked, the target clearly identified, and their location known. There was very little planning to be done and not a lot of room for creative solutions.

For the past two years, Cossack had chosen only missions that presented a genuine challenge. High-value targets always surrounded by security, well-known in their respective circles and sometimes even nationwide or internationally. There weren’t many assassins around who could take these people out and being one of them came with certain perks. The biggest one was that he kept himself valuable. No one in SCORPIA was irreplaceable, and he never forget his first few years under the thumb of Julia Rothman.

His newest target was Katashi Sakamoto, a powerful Yakuza leader. While SCORPIA hadn’t been able to supply him with the information needed to perform the hit – he would have to plan and organize that on his own – the file he’d been given on Sakamoto’s rise to power and his standing within the Yakuza had been detailed.

Sakamoto belonged to the _Yamaguchi-gumi_ , the biggest and most powerful of the Yakuza families. They counted almost fifty thousand members and more than 850 clans. The current boss of the whole syndicate, the so-called _kumicho_ , was Shinobu Tsukasa. Second in the chain of command were the so-called _wakagashira_ , who governed several gangs in a region with the help of a _foku-honbucho,_ who also carried responsibility for multiple gangs. Regional gangs had their own bosses, called _shateigashira_. The hierarchy got more complicated below that, comprising hundreds of gangs, families and _oyabun-kobun_ relationships. Everyone in a position of power could, through the traditional sake sharing – _sakazuki_ – become an _oyabun_ and build their own little group of lower-level Yakuzas _–_ called _kobun_ \- loyal to them.

Cossack had a detailed understanding of the Yakuza hierarchy, although he only needed to go as low as the second rung of command to find Sakamoto. He was the _wakagashira_ responsible for Greater Tokyo and all the gangs settled there. He made multiple billions a year through arms trafficking, drug trafficking, gambling, prostitution, blackmail, and extortion.

Once his flight touched down at Haneda International Airport, Cossack had spotted the SCORPIA operative that had already been waiting for him with a sign in hand. The man lead him to a comfortable BMW and drove him to the door of his hotel. He also handed Cossack another black envelope. His cover for this mission was Aaron Ryan. He was a mediocre banker with HSBC Bank USA. If asked, he would tell anyone that he was actually an excellent banker who would probably soon leave for a bigger name like Morgan Stanley or Goldman Sachs. That he was here for some well-deserved holidays. If anyone would call the number on the business cards he readily handed out, the call would be re-routed to a SCORPIA operative that would prove his identity to be true, but that he was currently on unpaid leave for unprofessional conduct.

Aaron Ryan was in Tokyo to forget about how much he was failing at the career he’d chosen for himself. He’d booked himself into a hotel close to Kabukicho, Tokyo’s red light district. The hotel was comfortably middle-class, not too shabby, but not so posh that people would pay much attention to him, either. About what a mediocre banker would be able to afford.

For Cossack the hotel was practical because prostitution was one of Sakamoto’s fastest growing businesses and one where he regularly sampled his wares as well. Being a Caucasian male, an obvious visitor on holidays and looking to relax, no one would look twice at him hanging around Kabukicho even multiple nights after another.

Cossack didn’t like that he wasn’t able to speak Japanese with the staff. Their English was acceptable, but there was a certain advantage to being able to speak someone’s mother tongue. They regarded you as less of a foreigner and more worthy of their trust. Yassen was already sticking out as it was. But there was nothing to be done about that now.

The check-in was unproblematic, and once he’d checked the room for surveillance, he opened the envelope he’d been given. It contained addresses of contacts, where he could get weapons, buy information and if necessary, send secure communications.

He had two months to complete the contract. The client wanted a targeted strike: Sakamoto dead, but his operation left intact. No damage to those under his command. He would have to kill Sakamoto either in his estate, in transit, or during one of his visits to a brothel. The latter was his first choice, given how careless people tended to get after a good fuck. 

For the next two weeks, he spent his time staking out the brothels Sakamoto owned in Kabukicho. Cossack’s usual missions were in Europe, the continent Julia Rothman was de facto responsible for. He spoke fluent English, Spanish, French, German and Russian and could pass as a Native in all those countries. Despite that, he’d been to both North and South America, but Japan was something entirely new to him. The amount of people filling the streets, the unfamiliar smells when he passed street food vendors, the almost pleasant realization that he was comparatively tall in Japan.

The intel Cossack collected was sobering. Sakamoto was a cautious man who was well aware that the police were after him. He was always surrounded by bodyguards, his cars never without armor. When Cossack managed to get into one of the neighboring buildings to see if he could take a shot with a rifle, he briefly thought he’d found a solution, but as soon as he’d gained access to the building’s plans he realized Sakamoto had – as anyone in his position should – made sure that bulletproof glass was used. Even if Cossack could break the glass with multiple shots lined up perfectly, the guards would have Sakamoto removed from the room immediately after the first shot. There was no way Cossack could take him out from a distance. The entrance was strictly monitored. Only Sakamoto’s local _shateigashira_ were allowed to come visit him, and his security personnel was highly trained and formed a tight-knit group. All of them were Japanese and had countless traditional Yakuza tattoos, intricate and spread over their whole body. There was no way Cossack would be able to pretend to be one of them, given the size difference, his inability to speak Japanese and that he’d never be able to perfectly imitate the tattoos.

Originally, the brothel had seemed like the best place to kill Sakamoto, but Cossack decided to set up camp in the woods surrounding his estate for three days and stake that out, too. His first assumption was proven right, though: The estate was a fortress. If there were servants, they weren’t allowed to leave. Cossack knew Sakamoto had a wife and son, both probably confined to his estate as well. The only one who could come and wish as he pleased was Sakamoto himself. Always in a convoy with five identical armored cars. He never entered the same one two days in a row, and Cossack hadn’t yet found out his system for choosing. Sakamoto might not even have one.

After two weeks of stakeouts and planning, Cossack knew two things for sure. One, Sakamoto’s only weakness were the girls he met up with in his brothels. He liked them young, never over sixteen and as young as twelve. If Cossack had been younger and had a hint that Sakamoto might go for boys as well, he may have tried getting in as Nathaniel, the identity he had used for seduction work. But that wasn’t an option. The second thing was that he would need more information.

If his time would truly run out, he could contact the client, re-negotiate. Burn the estate to the ground, make sure the job was fulfilled, even if the exact specifications had not been adhered to. Ever since Cossack had been given the _Fer de Lance_ , his work spending account was essentially limitless. If he needed combat teams, bombs, and a method of delivery, he would have it within days. Which meant he had time to investigate other ways to fulfill the mission. Ways that would be quieter, more elegant and draw less attention from the authorities.

Since nothing else had worked, Cossack kidnapped a lower ranking Yakuza member and tortured him in a soundproof cellar one of his contacts had rented out to him. It was small, with white-tiled walls and floor, a drain in the center. Easy to clean. The man was young, early twenties, but already covered in tattoos. That the tip of his left little finger was missing let Cossack know he had made a mistake in the past and had to make amends by cutting it off and offering it to his boss. Someone who had failed before was less likely to be missed. Cossack had him tied to a sturdy metal chair in the center of the basement.

The man had never been trained to withstand torture, and it showed. He still refused to answer Cossack’s questions the first time he asked.

When Cossack shoved the first needle under the nail of his thumb, he begged in Japanese. After the second one, he started begging in broken English. It was still as useless as it had been in Japanese, but it showed his growing willingness to cooperate and therefore progress.

“Everything you know about Sakamoto. His security. His contacts. His _shateigashira.”_

More useless begging. In frustration, Cossack used the pliers previously intended to carefully position another needle under the man’s left thumb nail to tear the whole nail out instead.

A loud, agonized scream. Afterwards, sobbing.

“Make yourself useful and I’ll stop.”

“They kill me! They put me down like dog!”

The man’s lower lip was trembling, there were tears in his eyes and snot coming out of his nose. Even the tattoos didn’t make him the least bit intimidating. Cossack’s lips opened into a terrifying imitation of a smile. Dr. Three had made it very clear that the psychological component of torture was just as important as the physical pain.

Then he raised the pliers once more. Sixteen needles and five more pulled fingernails before the man broke. Cossack was well trained in the art of pain, but he had known from the beginning that none of Dr. Three’s more advanced techniques would be necessary for this. It was just as well. Needles and pliers were easy to acquire and to dispose of, and there was a reason this was one of the most popular methods: It worked. Minimal contamination of the rented facilities was another advantage.

“I don’t know about Sakamoto security. Only for higher ups. But weakness easy: Venus.”

Cossack merely had to raise an eyebrow before the man scrambled to elaborate.

“His favorite girl. Venus. Older than rest. Elegant. Very beautiful. You know?”

After a moment of thinking, Cossack realized he did know her. She was in her mid-twenties and therefore so much older than the other girls, that he’d thought she was a business contact rather than another prostitute. She didn’t look like the other girls either: she wore expensive clothing, long dresses, high necks. At least whenever she entered the building. Cossack gave a short nod.

“This is – just rumor.”

Cossack motioned for him to go on.

“Sakamoto likes young girls. She is getting too old. He want her to get surgery, look younger again.” The man licked his lips before continuing. “Expensive hospital. Private. Excellent surgeon. She will have guards but fewer than when with him. She useful.”

It could work. Not the way the man expected it to – Sakamoto would never compromise himself for a toy – but there were other ways. Once he was sure the man knew nothing else, Cossack shot him. Paid someone to dispose of the body and clean the room. He had research to do.

The intel turned out to be good, and within a few days he knew where Venus would go through surgery. He’d put her picture through various databases and found a missing person report from ten years ago. It was easy to find out where her family lived now.

The private clinic was easily found. Their security was substandard, and the date of Venus’s operation quickly acquired. The clinic had staff from all around the world – multiple of the best cosmetic surgeons America had to offer had been consulted for her operation. All of them brought their American teams with them.

Cossack had spent three years at an American university while he was working for SCORPIA. No one asked twice about students going to Florida on spring break. They were never assumed to have anything to deal with the deaths of dealers and drug runners. When a rich kid brought his friends to the Hamptons for a weekend and an investment banker died that same weekend, the rich kids weren’t suspects. When a senator died who was supposed to give the commencement speech at Yale Med School, no one thought one of the students graduating with honors could possibly have anything to do with it.

His degree made it easy to sneak into the hospital, pretending he belonged. Cossack had acquired another fake identity in case further visits would be necessary. No one in a hospital paid any attention to nurses. He could go wherever he wanted, and no one would stop him. The two guards in front of Venus’ door let him through easily. They knew him as one of the nurses who had helped prep her for surgery.

Cossack had made sure to arrive the day after surgery, when the last effects of the anesthetic had worn of. Venus looked at him with surprisingly cold eyes. Her face was bandaged, only her lips and eyes left clear. Cossack didn’t like taking chances, but this once, he had to. And if his experience had taught him anything, his chances were quite good.

Before he sat down, he did measure her blood pressure and pulse, noted the results down in her chart. Then he sat down beside the bed. She looked at him in surprise.

“I am here to make you an offer.”

A slight nod. The intelligence in her eyes was no surprise. Cossack had spent enough time pretending to be a harmless plaything. It was a good position from which to bring an empire down.

“Scream or alert the guards in any way and I will kill you before they enter the room.”

Another slight nod, but he could see the fear in her eyes. Well-concealed, but not well enough.

“I have been hired to assassinate Katashi Sakamoto. I need more information to fulfill my task. I can offer you freedom, payment, and a new identity in exchange.”

Venus tilted her head, seemed to think about it.

“If I refuse?”

“I’ll kill you.”

It wasn’t an idle threat, either. The fear in her eyes was obvious now, and she nodded.

“I want to keep living,” she said, and Yassen understood it as both willingness to do what was necessary, and fear what it might mean to be caught.

“Yes. But do you consider your current form of existence living?”

She had learned to control her expressions at some point, and most of her face was still wrapped up and invisible, but her eyes were all Cossack needed to know what she was thinking. Venus was a wealthy woman. She wanted for nothing. Expensive clothing, apartments, cars. But none of it was hers. It was given by the man who owned her, and Yassen knew what it was like to be owned. He remembered what he had done to free himself. If she were half the fighter he had been, she would accept.

If she weren’t, he could always threaten her with her family.

But she was nodding already.

“Okay. But I want a new identity, and one hundred thousand dollars, and you won’t kill me.”

“Accepted. Start talking.”

As the next five minutes proved, Venus knew little to nothing about security. She knew everything about Sakamoto, his quirks and routines and favorite drinks, why he was upset with his wife and that he didn’t really care about his son, but it wasn’t what Yassen needed.

“This is worthless.”

The implicit threat in his words wasn’t lost on her.

“I can do better. I can go back, tell you what you need to know.”

The desperation in her voice let Cossack know he’d won. She had started to think about it, a life in freedom. Being no one’s possession, doing what she wanted when she wanted to. She probably didn’t trust him, but he was her only choice.

“Tomorrow, I will explain surveillance equipment to you, as well as some other things. You will listen and learn.”

She nodded immediately. Then he pulled out a picture of her mother. It had been taken two days ago and they hadn’t seen each other in a decade, but Venus needed only half a second to recognize her. Before she could say anything, Cossack spoke.

“In case you get cold feet and think it would be wise to tell Sakamoto someone is after him. I know where your family lives, and I will kill them.”

Venus stared at him for almost half a minute. She knew he wasn’t lying.

“Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll never tell Katashi.”

Cossack looked her over for a moment longer, before getting up.

“Alright. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

He was taking a risk, but it was well-calculated. He knew what she was thinking, and even if the desire for freedom wasn’t strong enough, he still had the threat on her family as back-up.

“I won’t tell a soul,” she promised, her voice small.

Cossack was wary when he returned the next day, but no one stopped him. The guards let him in just as they had the day before, and Venus was already waiting for him. There was still fear in her eyes, but it was paired with determination.

In one of the usual binders the hospital used for patient data, Cossack had hidden a collection of pictures of various surveillance devices, weaponry and whatever he thought might be useful for her to know. Anything that, if reported back to him, would be useful.

She learned quickly and pointed out a few of the devices she’d already seen inside. Maybe, Cossack would be able to hack into one of them.

It wasn’t lost on him that she flinched whenever he addressed her as Venus. It wasn’t her real name – a name most likely forced on her by Sakamoto – but he didn’t care much. She wasn’t correcting him, and it was good to constantly remind her just why she was doing what she was doing. Remind her what she stood to gain.

“How often will you be back for check-ups?”

“I’ve received multiple surgeries. Most of them should get significantly better within the first two weeks, but with a nose job it can take a whole year before the nasal contour is fully refined. I’ll be here for another three days and then back for weekly check-ups for the next month. Then another two check ups with two weeks in between, afterwards Katashi’s doctors will examine me at home.”

That meant Cossack would have easy access for another month. By that time, he wanted to have killed Sakamoto.

Venus turned out to be an efficient informant. Not like working with someone who had been properly trained, and no comparison to any Malagosto graduate, but a lot better than Cossack had assumed. The other girls were too young and too afraid, but she had been around Sakamoto for long enough to know him and his guards, and although she was still afraid, she had made the decision to take the chance offered to her. Just like Yassen had when Grant came to Sharkovsky’s dacha. Knowing her motivation made it easier to let her go into enemy territory. The fact that if she ever decided to betray him, he would kill her family first and then her helped as well.

When she came to the hospital for check-ups, Cossack was usually the nurse who would check on her before the doctors saw her. Her guards knew him by now and although they weren’t friendly, they barely spared him a glance.

They didn’t have much time, but Venus would whisper to him while he took her vitals, and the week after, she even had a folded piece of paper ready for him. He slipped it into his scrubs, slipped another piece of paper into her pocket and went about his business without hesitation. In ten days, Sakamoto would be welcoming a potential client from France. Cossack would be able to pretend to be part of his entourage if he timed it just right. One of the guards would be sick after the flight. SCORPIA had guards for hire available. A guard was much cheaper than a Malagosto graduate. It would be the third identity Cossack needed for this mission, but it was still worth it. Sakamoto’s head was incredibly expensive.

A day before the third week after her discharge, the last time they could speak before the potential client would visit, he received a call on his burner. Only Venus had the number, he’d slipped it into her pocket during their last meeting, only to be used in emergencies. When he accepted the call, she was sobbing at the other end.

Immediately, Cossack started going over his contingency plan: If she had been made, he’d need bombs to raze the estate to the ground, a few combat teams, and a small plane or helicopter to deliver it. Not impossible, just not his favorite option.

“Yes?”

“I can’t – I’m so sorry I can’t –“

Her voice was high-pitched and clearly terrified. Cossack took a deep breath to keep himself from rolling his eyes. There were reasons why he preferred working alone.

“Did you tell him about me?”

More sobbing.

“No, no, I didn’t, but I can’t go through with this. If you fail…if I fail…”

“You know the consequences if you go back on our deal.”

His voice was cold and devoid of mercy.

“I know. I know.”

Cossack weighed his options. He could try to get her back on track. If that failed, he would have to kill her.

“Where are you now?”

“In my apartment. The guards have left for the night. I can give you the address.”

She did. It was almost too easy. An hour later, Cossack was at her door. When she opened it, he couldn’t help but realize how young she looked. The surgeries had been done very well.

The tear tracks down her cheeks made her look even younger. She appeared to be half Cossack’s age, a teenager, and not a woman only five years younger. Venus stepped aside to let him in without prompting. Her apartment was well-decorated and clearly expensive, the furniture modern and sleek. Venus cared very little about his presence when she let herself fall onto the couch, reaching for a glass of wine with shaking hands. The bottle was already half empty.

Cossack sat down opposite of her in an armchair.

“We made an agreement,” he reminded her, voice flat. “You know what happens if you break it. It won’t just affect you, but your family.”

Venus shook her head, took a long drink from her wine. Her eyes focused on him; the fear dulled by alcohol. The coldness in them was still present.

“You think he won’t go after my family? You think he hasn’t made the same threats? So many have tried to kill him. All of them have failed.”

Yassen couldn’t help but think of Grant and how Sharkovsky had survived despite it all. He forced himself to push the thought away – she was nothing like him. There were thousands, hundreds of thousands of people like her in the world. Cossack wasn’t one of them.

“Someone like you could never understand. What it feels like to be owned. More of a possession than a person. To lose your family and home and-“

Yassen hadn’t realized he’d moved. He was grabbing Venus by her throat, pulling her up from the couch before his brain had caught up with his body. His fingers lay deadly and pale across her trachea, ready to crush it. Her startled noise of surprise was easily ignored, as was the wine she’d dropped unceremoniously. Deep red liquid was soaking into the soft beige of the couch.

“Don’t.” Yassen’s voice was deep, rough and vibrating with anger. “Don’t you dare assume you’re the only one whose life has been harsh. Sitting in a flat like this, wearing designer clothes, drinking thousand dollar per bottle wine. You haven’t been through half of what I’ve been through.”

Yassen wanted to kill her. Break her neck and leave her here, feel the satisfying crunch of her bones beneath his fingers and deal with the fallout after. But the cold efficiency of Cossack wouldn’t let him. He’d done seduction work for years. Common experiences created loyalty. He could manipulate her into trusting him. Reframe the operation as their fight against the Sakamotos and Sharkovskys of the world.

Venus’s eyes were wide. She looked like a defenseless child. She was little more than that, compared to Cossack’s skill and experience. But there was understanding in her eyes. The assumption of shared suffering. Slowly, he eased the grip he had on her throat. She started coughing and gasping for air immediately. Cossack took a step back. He had gotten out of his armchair, leapt over the low coffee table and had come to stand right in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice small and soft. He nodded once. Took another step back. She sank bank down onto the couch, still shivering. He kept standing.

“How did you escape?”

She didn’t know exactly what had happened to him, and he didn’t want to elaborate. But he would have to give her just enough to make sure she would see him as an ally.

“Someone came to kill the man that held me.” Cossack’s tongue almost refused to voice the next words. “Owned me. I offered my help. They took me with them after it was done.”

Venus nodded. “So you offered me the same deal.”

It was less about saving her and more about fulfilling the mission to his client’s standards, but Cossack gave a short nod.

“You have a choice, Venus. Keep pitying yourself or free yourself.”

Once more, she flinched at the name. Cossack knew she hadn’t picked it.

“What do you want me to call you?”

She hesitated.

“It doesn’t have to be your real name.”

She swallowed. “Call me Lee.”

“Alright, Lee. You have a choice.”

Her hands were still shaking when she bent to pick up the wine glass. Carefully, she put it down on the table. Then she straightened her dress and clasped her hands to keep them from shaking. Lee looked up at Cossack, her eyes far too old for her teenaged face.

“I want to be free,” she said, and her voice held calm determination.

Cossack nodded.

“Then let’s go over the plan one more time.”

With Lee by his side and SCORPIA handling the issue with the guard whose place Cossack would take, the actual assassination went off without a hitch. Cossack was hired, briefed, and entered the building as part of Grenouille’s entourage without any problems. His new identity Paul Werther had been bought from one of the best identity brokers in Asia and came complete with medical records and tax demands. It had cost a small fortune, but it got the job done.

First, Sakamoto and Grenouille sat down for drinks and to exchange the necessary pleasantries. The guards were standing at the edges of the room and guarding the door. The whole inside of the brothel was lavishly furnished, dark red colors dominating the space. Paintings lined the walls, depicting scenes from Japanese mythology.

Venus sat primly next to Sakamoto, his hand possessively on her knee. If Grenouille cared at all about the fact that she looked way too young to be of age, he didn’t comment. But it was important for their plan that Grenoiulle’s guards saw Lee, and realized that unlike the other girls, she was important to Sakamoto. That’s why Venus pressed a soft kiss to Sakamoto’s cheek before he left. With a pleased smile, he accepted it.

Grenouille and Sakamoto made their way to a private room for negotiations. Around ten minutes later, Venus approached Cossack and asked him to accompany her. Cossack shot a look at his commanding officer, who gave an easy nod. It wouldn’t do to upset Sakamoto by displeasing his favorite toy.

Venus held a tray with a flask of sake, and two small ceramic bowls. The guards had no reason to suspect her of anything. Cossack’s identity as Paul Werther was watertight. If Venus wanted him to walk her to the room, it was easier to just comply. 

On their way to the room, Venus slowed down once. There was a barely visible door, only meant to be used by workers and the girls of the house. They would use it to escape after Sakamoto and Grenoiulle were dead. When they were standing in front of the room, Cossack took out his Beretta and carefully attached the SWR Trident 9 silencer he’d gotten from his contacts. With the door closed behind them, no one would hear the shots. If they were lucky, the CO would wait ten minutes before sending someone to retrieve his guard. By then, they could have already left the building through the service entrance and gotten lost in the crowds.

Cossack nodded at Lee. She leaned forward, letting the security system scan her retina. She had access to this room. As soon as the door opened, Lee stepped in. Both men were surprised to see her, but none of them moved.

Before Sakamoto could finish the question what she was doing here, Cossack had entered the room and closed the door with his left hand, while shooting twice with the gun in his right. The bullets barely made a sound leaving the barrel of his gun. Both men were dead before they realized what had happened, a red hole opening up right between their eyes.

Cossack turned around to leave, but Lee walked towards them. She placed the tray on the table, and looked at Sakamoto with intent, as if needing to confirm his death. Then she murmured something in Japanese that Cossack didn’t understand and turned towards him again.

“Let’s go,” he said, and they made their way back out. No one stopped them when they slipped through the service door. Here, there was nothing luxurious – the walls were bare and tubes were running along them. Cossack followed Lee through a series of corridors that allowed the employees to move unseen by clients. When she pushed the door to the outside open, Cossack immediately stripped off his tactical gear and deposited it in one of the bins nearby. Then he wrapped an arm around Lee, who leaned easily into his side. They moved from the alley into the throng of people, and no one paid attention to another white man obviously trying to get lucky with one of the ladies working here. They got into three different taxis, never walking more than ten metres to the next one. They didn’t stop moving for hours, but when they finally boarded a private jet at Haneda International Airport, Cossack was sure that they hadn’t been followed. Lee was exhausted and panting, but she hadn’t complained. When they took off, Cossack felt some of the strain ease.

He took a shower and changed his clothing, looking perfectly civilian in dark jeans and a button down when he emerged. Clothes for Lee had been delivered as well, and she looked more at ease once she was out of the tight dress and high heels and wearing trousers and a high-necked sweater.

“Why did you kill Grenouille as well?”, was the first thing she asked him. A rather stupid question, in Yassen’s opinion. He still answered.

“Collateral damage. He wouldn’t have kept it quiet. Besides, there was a bounty on his head.”

That way, the man’s death was doubly useful. Lee nodded.

“I never wanted this face, you know. Sakamoto chose for me…and now he’s dead, and I still have this face.”

Yassen looked her over.

“It’s going to help you in the future. You look younger, less dangerous. It will make it harder for people to find you when they can’t connect you to your old identity.”

Lee sighed. She should have known better than to expect emotional support from a contract killer. She took a look around the plane. It was comfortable, but not as luxurious as Sakamoto’s private planes had been. Yassen sat down opposite of her, reaching for the brown envelope on the table. The black one with the scorpion on it was for him. The brown one contained a new passport and one hundred thousand US dollar.

He handed it to her, and she looked inside. The payment, as agreed.

“This plane will stop over in Beijing,” Yassen explained. “There is a school in Beijing called Yun Hai. They train excellent bodyguards, and their most successful program only admits women. Many people don’t recognize women as threats, allowing female assassins to succeed where men would fail. You would have similar advantages working in executive protection. You could apply there.”

Lee nodded, a slight smile on her face. It wasn’t what she had dreamt of doing as a little girl. But she had been forced into prostitution at fifteen, and she had vowed to herself that she would never be defenseless again hundreds of times over the last ten years. This was a good start.

“Thank you,” she murmured, looking up at Yassen. “I owe you.”

He shook his head.

“We had an agreement. This is merely your payment.”

Lee tilted her head slightly.

“Still. I don’t have any skills you would need right now, but in the future…I owe you a favor.”

Yassen accepted it, mostly because he didn’t see any point in arguing. They sat in silence for some time, but he knew she wasn’t done talking just yet. The tension in her shoulders and the way she kept clenching her fingers gave her away.

“I thought it would feel better,” she admitted, “to see Katashi dead.”

Yassen stayed quiet.

“How did it feel for you? When you helped kill the man who used to own you?”

Yassen’s face was carefully blank, his tone flat.

“I didn’t just help. I killed him.”

His eyes met hers for the first time since he’d started speaking. They had both the color and the temperature of arctic ice.

“I thought it would feel better, too.” 

Lee’s eyes were a lot warmer than Yassen’s. There was gratitude in them and understanding.

They spoke little for the rest of the flight. When they landed in Beijing and Lee left, the goodbye was short. Yassen didn’t expect to see her again. But his life was unpredictable, and they would meet again by chance, years later. An assassin wasn’t afforded a luxury such as friends. But Lee and him shared part of their past.

Besides that, she was excellent at executive protection. When Yassen started planning the dacha three years before stepping down as Head of SCORPIA, it was an easy choice who he would consult in regard to the security setup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Prostitution, Pedophilia, Torture, Non-consensual body modification
> 
> Also: That school in Beijing exists and VICE made a documentary about it. I love it :D
> 
> See you next week for _Trauma Buddies Revenge Road Trip Part 2: The Present!_


	6. Good For The Pain II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said "See you next week" at the end of last chapter? Yeah, funny that.  
> This was once more like giving birth. Writing is hard, people.  
> But I'm also working on my thesis and finishing up my uni degree. I'll still try to get an update up every 2 weeks :)

When Lee and Yassen arrived in Tokyo, they checked into a hotel close to Kabukicho, the red light district. Their hotel was a little more comfortable than the one Yassen had been in fifteen years ago. They had used the _Fer de Lance_ to come here and had moored her in a small harbor a little out of town. No one even knew they were here. But they still had fake passports to show to the concierge, and those identities would stand up to scrutiny.

“Alright,” Yassen said once they had made sure the room wasn’t bugged and had gotten the few weapons they brought with them stashed away.

“What’s your plan?”

Lee took a deep breath, sitting down on the couch. They had a suite with two bedrooms, a living room, and a big bathroom with both a tub and a shower.

“A few months ago, I found out that my twin sister is still alive. Hayate Sakamoto has taken over his father’s position as _wakagashira_ , and I worry that if he finds out she’s still alive, he’ll kill her.”

Yassen looked her over, her clasped hands, the way she held his gaze.

“After we left, fifteen years ago, the Yamaguchi-gumi went after my family. I had been the last one to open that door with a retina scan. I had disappeared with you. It was an easy conclusion to make – I had sold Katashi out. But I was gone. And someone had to pay the price.”

Yassen had never looked back, he rarely died. The fallout of his missions could be quite devastating, but he didn’t concern himself with that. When he’d accepted Operation Stormbreaker, he hadn’t lost any sleep about it either. What the Yakuza had done was the logical next step, and if it had been Yassen in their position, and someone had taken out a major player in SCORPIA, he would have done the same thing. Of course, he also would have made sure the actual traitor had been found.

“My family wasn’t prepared. I was out of the country and doing my best to hide, but they received no warning. My parents were dead mere days after I left. Somebody planted a bomb in their car. After I finished my course in executive protection in Beijing, I did some research. I had someone hack the police database, and there were three death certificates: my mother, father and twin sister. There was nothing left for me to go back to.”

Lee got up, her steps were soundless on the thick carpet. She made her way over to the bar and grabbed a flask of sake, filling up only one of the small cups. She emptied it in one long sip. Her gaze was focused on the city outside their windows when she continued speaking. The sky was dark already, but billboards and neon signs kept the street outside lit.

“Recently, an old contact of mine came across some inconsistencies in the paperwork. I only wanted to find out where they were buried, pay my respects. I haven’t been to Japan in fifteen years, I felt safe enough to come back. And there were three death certificates, but when he followed the trail, only two graves could be found. My mother and my father had died because of that car bomb. But my sister wasn’t in the car. The police must have been smarter than usual. They faked her death and hid her away, gave her a new identity. Back when I first found out they were dead, I didn’t bother looking past the death certificates. But now, with a little bit of distance and a new skillset…I did some research. I found out where she lives now, under what name.”

When Lee had told him it was going to be personal all those months ago, Yassen had expected they were here for revenge. Hearing that Lee had found her sister alive was not something he’d expected. She was clearly nervous. He could see it in the way she was shifting her weight from one leg to the other, how she was still holding the empty cup of sake to give her hands something to do.

Yassen wondered how he would feel if it would have been him. If anyone from Estrov was still alive. Maybe someone he’d gone to school with. He had seen Leo die, but Lee had seen her sister’s death certificate, and now she was alive. He carefully pushed those thoughts aside. There was no one who had survived the fall of Estrov. He was the only one. His village didn’t even exist in the government’s records anymore. All of them had been wiped from the earth.

“That’s good to hear,” he offered, and Lee nodded. She suddenly seemed interested in the décor of the room, something neither her nor Yassen had paid any attention to when they arrived. The thick curtains artfully draped around the windows, the paintings on the walls. The dark wood furniture, expensive, but a little old-fashioned. Her eyes flickered through the room and Yassen knew Lee was trying to buy time.

“I want to see her. I don’t know if I’ll make contact, but I want to see her.”

He merely gave a nod. “Do you want me to come?”

Her voice sounded more business now, not that it had been soft before, but there was a noticeable shift when she focused back on the technicalities.

“Yes. Tokyo Police isn’t actively monitoring her anymore, but there are still has certain security systems in place. She knows who to call, what to look for. My idea was that we use some of our equipment, get settled at a place a comfortable distance away, and just listen in and watch a little.”

Lee didn’t want to stake out her twin’s house. But her sister believed her to be dead and had gone through years of her life always having a police detail following her around. Both to protect her and to arrest any low-level Yakuzas who would try to get to her.

“She has a family, too. A husband, two kids. A seven-year-old daughter and a five-year-old son. I don’t want to upset them.”

Yassen could understand that well enough.

“We took a long-distance listening device and binoculars from the _Fer_ ,” he pointed out.

They had the equipment. Lee had known what to pack for.

“I know the area where she lives. It’s on the outskirts of the city. We’ll be able to use the empty second level of a restaurant. The owner occasionally rents it out to make some extra money. I’ve rented it for this month. We can have lunch down at the restaurant, arrive while the family is out. Then when the kids come back from school and their parents from work, we’ll be ready.”

Between them, they had almost fifty years of experience in the field, and spying on a civilian family, even if one of them had lived under police protection for a few years, was no challenge. They had lunch at the restaurant downstairs and chatted politely with the owner for a while. Then they made their way into the second level apartment. It was small, but contained everything one needed to live: a well-equipped kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room with a few plants, tv and an old, comfy couch. They didn’t bother correcting the man’s assumption that they were a couple, and Yassen’s fluent Japanese helped him fit in. It made everything much easier than it had been fifteen years ago.

The neighborhood Lee’s twin sister had settled in was rather suburban. Individual houses, gardens, greener than one would have expected in Tokyo. It wasn’t a cheap area, but both Lee’s sister and her husband were lawyers and could easily afford the comfortable lives they were leading. Yassen and Lee set up their equipment, opened the window but kept the curtains drawn around their listening device so no one would see its parabolic disc. They took position at the window next to it which was closed but had the curtains drawn back so they could watch. It didn’t take long, and then there was nothing to do but wait. The sun started to sink, and with the light in the flat turned off, no one would be able to see them from outside. They had been waiting for hours by the time a white sedan pulled up to the house, the whole family assembled inside.

Lee let out a relieved breath. She had known they would return home eventually, but it was getting late, and even if the children had hobbies after school, they should have been here earlier. Maybe the family had spent the afternoon together.

As soon as the car was parked, the left rear door opened and a girl bounced outside, still wearing a pink tutu. A ribbon was pinned to her chest, and she was obviously very proud of whatever it was she had achieved.

“Mama! You promised we’d have my favorite for dinner if I won, and I did!”

Yassen didn’t move, but he could feel Lee flinch beside him when the driver’s door opened and a woman stepped out. She looked nothing like Lee. Her lips were thinner, her cheekbones less pronounced, and her forehead seemed bigger. Yassen remembered seeing Lee before her operation, and he could recognize the similarities between how she used to look and her twin. Now the two women looked nothing alike, and Lee appeared to be a decade younger than her, if not more.

The woman smiled, fine lines around her eyes, maybe from stress or hard work. Given that Lee’s life hadn’t been any easier than hers, Yassen concluded the difference was most likely due to expertly done cosmetic surgery rather than anything else.

“Yes, darling, I know I promised. And I already prepared the Sukiyaki because I knew you would be amazing.”

Her wide, loving smile made her look beautiful, and the man who got out of the car next regarded her with obvious affection. The daughter ran towards her mother and was wrapped up in a tender embrace.

The perfect picture was destroyed when the little brother kicked open his door, stepping outside with his arms crossed and a big frown.

“You can’t win dancing! Everyone got a ribbon. It wasn’t a real competition.”

He stuck out his tongue, but his sister didn’t even look at him. That only made him angrier.

“Hachiro! Stop that.”

His father made his way towards him, expectantly holding out his hand. Hachiro glared at him for a few seconds, before uncrossing his arms and letting himself be guided inside.

Meanwhile, his big sister looked after him, her facial expression making it obvious that she had heard him after all.

“You did great, darling. I am so proud of you,” her mother whispered, and the tense expression on the girl’s face smoothed over.

“Thank you, mum.”

Her voice was hesitant, a little quieter.

“Let’s go inside, Kaede. Your Sukiyaki is waiting.”

That cheered the girl up, and the bounce in her step returned. The family made their way inside, and they could watch them eat through large windows. Nothing of note happened. Eventually, the parents brought the children to bed. Stayed up a bit longer watching TV, but when Lee’s twin kept dozing off against her husband’s side, he shook her awake gently and turned off the TV. They made their way upstairs and into bed. The house was dark and quiet. Yassen started packing up their equipment, stowing it in the black backpacks they’d worn before. Then he carefully wiped down any surfaces they had touched. Lee sat at the window for a while longer, just looking at the house on the other side of the street.

When Yassen was done packing, and they could leave, she still didn’t move.

“That could have been me,” she mused. “I was on my way back from school when Katashi took me, and Aiko was mere minutes behind me. She had stayed back to talk to some friend or something, I don’t even really remember.”

Yassen shrugged one of the backpacks on and carried the other one over to her. Slowly, she got up, her eyes still fixed on her sister’s house.

Then she asked, “If there’s such a thing as fate…do you ever wonder what we did to deserve ours?”

Yassen’s first, instinctual response was a short, clipped, ‘No’. But that wouldn’t be true. He’d spent plenty of time wondering why the things that had happened to him had happened to him. Why was he alive when all of Estrov was dead? Why, of all the kids on the streets of Moscow, had it been him that ended up with Sharkovsky? Why had he made it to SCORPIA, and why had he become so good at what he did? Why did Hunter have to turn out to be a traitor? Why did he even survive until now, despite the intelligence world’s best efforts to get rid of him?

He held out her backpack to her before replying, “I’ve wondered plenty. But I’ve never found a satisfying answer.”

Lee grabbed hold of the backpack and slung it over her shoulder.

“Me neither.”

Then they made their way back to the hotel, unseen. They didn’t draw any attention and wore face masks while outside. Plenty of people here did, and it served to obscure most of their features. They showered, had a late dinner, and went to bed. Yassen’s sleep was dreamless, as usual.

Lee was already up when he made his way into their living room the next morning.

There was a half-eaten breakfast still on the table.

“Did you sleep at all?”

Lee shook her head.

“No. But I made a few decisions.”

Yassen sat down on the couch and poured himself some of the orange juice Lee had ordered.

“With Hayate Sakamoto taking over recently and you finding your sister, you are sure that he would be able to find her as well. And unlike previous _wakagashiras_ since his father, he would care enough to actually go after her.”

“Exactly,” she agreed. Lee was pacing the length of the room. “I need my sister safe. And to achieve that, Hayate Sakamoto needs to go.”

There was no discussion to be had about that. She was right. Yassen told her as much.

“Yes. It won’t be easy, but it can be done.”

Lee knew. She had been there the last time, and Yassen assumed that this time, she wanted the kill. She did tell him months ago that his skills in that regard would not be needed.

“Remember Katashi. Remember how empty revenge felt,” he reminded her.

Yassen could remember it all too well – he had killed both Sharkovsky and his son. Neither death had brought him peace.

That’s when Lee took a deep breath.

“But I don’t just want to kill him. I don’t want revenge. I want justice.”

Yassen took a long sip from his glass of juice, following her pacing with his eyes.

“Justice?”

“Listen, I know how this world works. I’ve lived in it for too long. I know someone will always offer drugs, organs, and people to the highest bidder. I know I can’t stop any of this forever.”

She stopped pacing, eyes focused on Yassen, her expression intense.

“But I want to salt the earth here. I want to make sure whoever comes next will have to rebuild from the ground up. I want to make sure no other girl gets put through what I have been put through. When you were here the last time, you had to leave the Yakuza structure intact. I have no such scruples. I want all of them to regret. I don’t want them dead. I want them to be alive to suffer as I have suffered. Locked up, no longer in control of their lives, prisoners.”

Yassen merely raised an eyebrow.

“How are you planning to disrupt their business for years?”

Lee let herself sink into one of the plush armchairs opposite of the couch he was sitting on.

“I won’t assassinate anyone. Instead I will leak the intel needed to capture them to law enforcement. Make sure that an agency, backed by a government with practically unlimited funds, gets all the intel they need to make a big arrest. The Yakuza are one of the most influential crime empires in the world. That kind of press and the bragging rights alone would make several countries consider it. And there’s one in particular that simply can’t pass up a chance to play world police.”

Yassen crossed his legs. He’d tried something similar before – letting law enforcement do his dirty work. ASIS had spectacularly failed him when he’d hoped they’d capture and kill Brendan Chase for him. But the CIA was better. They would make use of other military branches if necessary. Delta Force, maybe SEAL teams. It was a workable option. Besides…

“I have a contact at the CIA. We’ve been exchanging information for almost two decades. He’s capable and if I had to trust anyone in law enforcement with something of this magnitude, it would be him.”

Yassen hadn’t been in the field for almost a decade and he left the business behind, but he would be remiss to cut the contact to his private network. Command of SCORPIA lay firmly with Alex. Yassen had made sure the transition of power would be smooth and absolute. But for many of its financial holdings and companies, Yassen was still silent partner. He had stayed alive for so long because he knew how to play the game, and it never hurt to have allies. All the more advantageous that this particular contact was one SCORPIA was not aware of. Even as Head Yassen made sure that not all of his finances, contacts and safe houses were tangled up with the organization. It never hurt to be able to cut and run at a moment’s notice.

“That sounds good.” Lee was still pensive. “My plan was to supply them with intel about both Hayate and his _shateigashira._ Then they can take those to a black site and interrogate them. Keep them in tiny little cells without light and nothing to pass the time. Until they have the information they need to root out the gangs in Greater Tokyo. I’m assuming they won’t keep them alive for long after they got what they needed, but I’d like that. Imprisonment, lack of control over what they do.”

Yassen wondered for a moment whether her ideas of justice and revenge weren’t closer to one another than she was aware of, but he figured it didn’t matter. If the original crime was this heinous, justice would have to be brutal in return.

“CIA black sites are geared towards efficiency. But we can either lie about them having information about secret coup, so they keep them for longer, or I could ask my contact outright. He will owe me a favor for something of this magnitude anyway. Making sure that they are kept alive for a while longer should be possible.”

The smile on Lee’s face was small, cunning, and terrifying.

“Some of them are still the same from back when Katashi was _wakagashira_. Make sure those are definitely taken and kept.”

Yassen nodded.

“So we will be collecting information over the next couple weeks, then hand it over, and be gone from here before the CIA arrives.”

“Yes,” Lee agreed. She reached for her abandoned breakfast, appetite seemingly returned after their plan was made. Yassen watched her prong some of the fried egg on her plate.

“Do you want to speak to your sister?”

Lee’s fork had been halfway to her mouth, but she put it back down when she heard the question. Her facial expression was carefully neutral. She had obviously thought about this before.

“I don’t think now is a good time for that. The police has told her I’m most likely dead. We look nothing alike. She wouldn’t recognize me anymore. Maybe later.”

Yassen accepted it without prodding. He didn’t know what he would have done in her situation, either. The practical approach of neutralizing the threat was certainly easier than some long overdue, but unexpected family reunion.

“Would you recommend the English breakfast?” he asked instead.

Lee finished chewing before she replied.

“I usually prefer something lighter in the mornings, but we’ve got a long day ahead of us. And it does taste surprisingly good.”

Yassen nodded and picked up the phone to order room service. Lee was right. They had a lot of work to do. But between the two of them and their previous experiences with the Yakuza, it was quick work to identify weaknesses and put together extensive files. Yassen would send them over the dark net, after a short call to his contact to make sure they would be willingly received. They had discovered a small airport outside Tokyo where they could charter a private jet, and with a little bit extra into the right hands would be allowed to leave without showing their passports. In and out of the country without ever being recorded. In Russia, Yassen’s contacts with the Bratva would make sure their machine was never registered.

Before Yassen called his contact, he did some research on him. He was still married, still no kids. Sam had aged in recent years but aged well: the lines around his eyes and mouth and the smattering of silver along his temples made him look respectable.

Samuel Stewart had been steadily rising through the ranks of the CIA ever since he joined as a young man, and quite a few of his biggest successes had been made possible because of the intel he had received from Yassen. Their partnership was mutually beneficial and worked largely because of one simple rule: Yassen would never share intel that would implicate SCORPIA, and Sam never shared intel that would compromise a mission the CIA had a part in. Their organizations were safe, everyone else was fair game.

Samuel was a practical man. He knew the kind of job he was doing and the game he was playing. He didn’t try to pretend be was something he wasn’t. Plenty of intelligence agencies did whatever they needed to keep their country safe and could barely be distinguished from corporations such as SCORPIA at times. If Samuel could make someone pay for violating the Geneva Convention while also winning a favor from Yassen, he would do so.

Yassen called in the morning, so it would be the previous evening in America. The phone call was untraceable as long as he kept it under four minutes, and he highly doubted he would be needing that long. Samuel picked up after the second ring.

“Samuel Stewart.”

“Hello. This is Yassen.”

There was a moment of silence, and Yassen ignored the sharp intake of breath on the other side.

“I thought you were retired.”

“I am. Consider this a favor to be paid back either to me or the current Head of SCORPIA.”

Another moment of silence. It wasn’t a question of whether Sam would bite, but rather of how long he’d drag it out until he would. But apparently the man was just as aware of the time restraint their call was under, and he yielded quickly.

“What do you have?”

“Intel about the Yakuza in the Great Tokyo area. Detailed enough to take down several _shateigashiras_ and the current Yamaguchi-gumi second in command, Hayate Sakamoto.”

“We can’t do anything on that scale without permission from the country.”

“There’s been a recent spike in gang activity. The police will be happy to work with you.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

What Yassen thought was ‘Can you do anything on your own or do you want me to come run your operations?’.

What he said was, “Yes,” in a perfectly neutral tone of voice.

“For an unspecified favor in the future?”

Sam’s voice had that undertone Yassen knew all too well. He would accept. Had known it since he first suggested it to Lee. The man was just playing hard to get.

“Yes.”

Another moment of consideration. Sam sounded professional when he spoke again.

“Alright. But to you. Not to the current Head of SCORPIA.”

Yassen could understand that. The devil you know. Besides, Alex could always come to him and ask for support if he needed it. And Alex was plenty able to make his own deals.

“Acceptable. There is one more condition.”

“What?” Sam sounded suspicious.

“Hayate Sakamoto and his _shateigashira_. I’m assuming they will be questioned.”

“They will be. You don’t want that? Not sure I’ll be able to stop that from happening.”

Yassen knew he wouldn’t be. But he didn’t want him to, anyway.

“No. I want them to be questioned and then held.”

“At the blacksite?” Sam was a little confused.

“Yes. Keep them alive, but not comfortable.”

Yassen knew his contact well enough to be able to imagine Sam’s face, a furrow in his brow, going through all the various motivations Yassen could possibly have. Sending a message. Revenge. Something personal. Yassen didn’t care much as long as his conditions were followed.

“Alright,” Sam finally agreed. “I can do that. Send the intel to the usual account.”

“You’ll have it by morning.”

Then Yassen disconnected. He used his laptop to send the files via the dark web mail account he hadn’t used for years, while Lee packed up their luggage, wiped down the surfaces and deep cleaned the bathroom. Within two hours, they were ready to go. No trace of them would be found. They took a taxi out to the small, unofficial airport were a Gulfstream G550 was already waiting for them.

Once they had boarded and sunken into the deep, comfortable seats, neither Yassen nor Lee could shake the similarity to the last time they had left Tokyo together.

They were quiet for the first half of the flight, both lost in thought. At some point, Lee remarked,

“I’m not sure when I’ll be able to come back to see my sister. But I just wasn’t ready yet.”

Yassen had never been good at talks like this. But he remembered talking to Alex about the consequences of this life, and how to carve little bits of indulgence out of it. This was important to Lee, and he couldn’t stay silent.

“She’s safe. No one will be able to connect her to the CIA raid that’s going to happen. Hayate, the only one who would have cared enough to look for her, will be gone. You can come back whenever you’re more comfortable with it.”

Lee took a deep breath.

“Thanks. I just wonder that maybe, if I had spoken to her…if there would have been a sense of absolution in that.”

Yassen looked her over, noticing the furrow of her brow and the tension in her shoulders.

“Maybe. But let’s wait for the outcome of this. Once all of them are gone, that should be a weight off your shoulders, too.”

“Yes. It should. Yassen…”, she looked hesitant for a moment, but he motioned for her to continue. “You killed the guy who held you. Did you ever consider going back to destroy his empire?”

Yassen’s face was unreadable, his expression carefully blank.

“His name was Sharkovsky. I killed both him and his son. After that, his business crumbled on its own. Unlike Sakamoto, he never traded people. He was simply one of the many corrupt officials of the Soviet Union. He found me trying to break into his flat in Moscow and took me to his dacha. I couldn’t escape. I had the choice between obedience and death.”

Lee understood that all too well, and if it had been anyone but Yassen, she would have taken his hand while he spoke. But she merely gave him a supportive smile and stayed comfortably seated across from him.

“I considered killing his wife. His daughter. But both of them disappeared with what little money they could seize before the vultures came down on what was left of Sharkovsky’s fortune and influence. There was nothing left of his business.”

“No justice or revenge to be exerted,” Lee concluded.

It was the same conclusion Yassen had reached, whenever he turned the topic over in his head. It was over. He had done what he could. And yet, he would never be able to turn back time. He would never be able to do anything differently.

All he could do now was accept it. Live with it. But the words were empty, and he knew that Lee of all people understood. It wasn’t rational to hold on to things that couldn’t be changed anymore. It wasn’t effective. A part of Yassen wished he could simply ignore it. He’d been doing that for decades, after all. But now, that he was helping Lee deal with her past, he hadn’t been able to keep the thoughts about his own at bay. They were similar in many regards, and that made it easier to trust her, but it also meant that the past weeks had shaken up memories he had suppressed for ages.

Yassen had never expected much from life. He had thought that being able to leave the harsh years of his youth behind would be enough. But Lee’s hunger for more than just that, whether it was revenge, or justice, or a connection to a family she hadn’t even known existed – it made Yassen consider his own future. He was retired. His life was his own. He had peace and no idea what to do with it.

When his eyes met Lee’s, she huffed a laugh.

“I’m gonna get a drink. Something for you, too?”

Yassen didn’t know if she could read him that well or if she had been lingering on similar thoughts, but he assumed it to be the latter.

“Yes.”

The sky was dark outside, but the moon hung full and heavy, making the clouds beneath them look soft and downy. Yassen had always enjoyed flying.

The next weeks passed with the pleasantly slow flow of time Yassen was still getting used to after years during which he’d barely managed to sleep on some days. He checked the security measures of the dacha himself, spent days on it. It was the first time he’d left for an extended amount of time since he’d retired, and while it didn’t quite feel like coming home, it did feel good to be back.

Both Yassen and Lee kept an ear to the ground, waiting to hear of the CIA’s next moves. Yassen was confident Sam wouldn’t let his tip go to waste. They waited for almost three weeks. Their contacts let them know something was planned for Sunday night, and the next morning, the news were full of it. CIA and Japanese military had arrested not only Hayate Sakamoto, but multiple _shateigashira_ located in Greater Tokyo.

They kept the tv on during the day, comparing the coverage of various news networks with what their underground contacts were supplying. At some point, it became obvious that the arrested Yakuza had not been brought to any federal prison. Already on their way to a black hole they would never escape again.

Lee was sipping her tea, a slight smile on her lips.

“Does it feel better?” Yassen found he was genuinely curious.

Lee nodded.

“Yes. It does. But…” Lee hesitated, as if searching for words. “Not because they are gone. I’ve been worrying about my sister. Knowing that she’s safe now…that feels good.”

That made sense, Yassen supposed.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about her. I was worried to speak to her because I look nothing like her anymore, and she has a different name now, as do I…but I know I have to. Whatever happens, she deserves to know I’m alive.”

Lee looked as if something had suddenly given way. She had always been determined and decisive, but now Yassen saw something in her he couldn’t quite place.

“You know, before Katashi, before he called me Venus…my name was Natsuko.”

Her eyes were soft and her smile real, and Yassen knew this was important. Names had meaning in their world.

“Thank you for telling me,” Yassen replied. “But I knew. I looked you up all those years ago before I approached you.”

Lee rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.”

Yassen carefully stirred some more jam into his tea, leaned back into the couch. They had made themselves comfortable in the big living room, the TV was still running in the background. The big windows to the outside showed that the snow covering the forest was slowly thawing.

“Do you want me to call you Natsuko?”

She didn’t have to think about it.

“No. It’s a name that doesn’t fit me anymore. But it matters that it used to be mine.”

Yassen couldn’t help but remember his mother calling his name all those years ago – _Yasha_. The words were heavy on his tongue, as if they were burning their way through his throat and he couldn’t stop them.

“I had a different name, too. Before Sharkovsky.”

Lee stilled, waiting in case he wanted to say anything else. But acknowledging the truth of it – that Yassen hadn’t always been his name – that it wasn’t the one his parents had given him, or even one he’d chosen for himself – was enough for now. The admission hung heavily between them for a few seconds before Lee realized nothing else would follow. Her reply ended the laden silence over them.

“Thank you for telling me,” she echoed his earlier words, and it was a serious, meaningful moment, but Yassen couldn’t help remembering endless sessions with Dr. Stein. Lee must have felt the same, because he could see the corners of her mouth twitching upwards.

“You know,” Lee continued, as she put her empty teacup down on the table in front of them, “I think this was different because what I – what we – did, wasn’t just about the past. It made me realize I have something to look forward to. And I think so do you.” She gave him a soft smile.

Then Lee picked her teacup back up and stood to make her way to the kitchen. Before she left the living room, she stopped for a moment. “You are not alone, Yassen.”

He kept pondering her words. Accepting the past felt like nothing more than an empty phrase. Yassen was aware he couldn’t unburn Estrov or turn back time. But he was free now. He had the money, influence and power needed to defend that freedom. He had decades of life ahead of him. He could build something. Just like he had the _Bucephalus_ , or the dacha.

Lee was right. Yassen didn’t have many people he cared about, but he wasn’t alone. Lee cared for him. He cared for her.

There was also Alex. If Yassen hadn’t cared for him, he’d never shown up in London to help him escape MI6. But that was mostly because of his lingering fondness for Hunter, and the fact he owed the man his life. Over the coming years, Alex had proven himself to be eager to learn, capable and trustworthy. He made a great apprentice, Second in Command, and heir.

Yassen wasn’t naïve enough to pretend that that was all Alex was to him. They’d moved long since past that. Alex wanted a lot more from him than just friendship. Yassen had not discouraged that interest through the years. Had encouraged it more often than he liked to admit, through gifts, gestures, and touch. Alex understood him better than anyone else, he’d gotten the message just fine. Alex was no longer the inexperienced nineteen-year-old who had first fallen into Yassen’s bed.

Alex had grown into a competent leader, a powerful figure of the criminal underworld, and an attractive man. Yassen wasn’t unaware of any of it. But Alex was still so young compared to him. There were so many things Alex didn’t know about him. Things he luckily hadn’t lived through but that were hard to understand otherwise. Things that Yassen didn’t want to burden him with.

Calling Alex an innocent would be a lie. Yassen had made him into a killer, someone who did the math on human life. Maybe that was precisely why he was hesitant to push for an even closer connection. Yassen had made so many decisions for Alex, had forced him to make so many unpleasant choices himself. He didn’t want this to be one of them.

* * *

Delilah Reyes had just recently finished the Professional Trainee Program that each applicant to the CIA Directorate of Operations had to complete. The DO had formerly been known as the Clandestine Service, and Delilah had to admit to herself that she’d carried romantic notions of being a spy saving the day in a sharp suit. Most people who applied for this training did, and she suspected those delusions were needed to get through the grueling weeks of physical training with little sleep and military rations.

But instead of being allowed to go to Tokyo with the older agents, she and most of her cohort had been stuck in Langley, helping the analysts. There was a lot of data to sift through, and everything had to be read, fact-checked and confirmed. The press had decided that kind of work wasn’t necessary anymore, but they were still stuck with the daily grind of reading and researching and double-checking.

Like pretty much everyone in the DO, Delilah knew Samuel Stewart. The man was already part of the leadership and if this Tokyo mission worked out the way he hoped to, he was on track of being the next Deputy Director of Operations. Samuel Stewart had been working here for decades. He had slowly made his way up, and whatever kind of sources he had were clearly just another argument to put him into a position where he could put them to use.

Not that it mattered much to Delilah. She was mostly pissed at the man because he was responsible for her current shitty job. She had spent the past week – and would spent a few more weeks – watching security camera footage, pouring over the interrogation transcripts when they came in, and do whatever else someone with high security clearance was needed for, but who could reasonably be delegated to desk duty. And who fit the bill better than agents who had barely completed their training?

At least once the interrogation transcripts came in, it would be interesting. The public knew black sites existed, they knew about water boarding, and that was more than what the CIA wanted them to know. _Should have learned from the whole Gitmo mess_ , Delilah couldn’t help but think.

But since she had sworn her oath and finished her PT program, she knew a whole lot more than the public. The arrested Yakuza leaders would probably be brought to Jakarta first, and then driven deep into the rainforest, to what looked like nothing more than a few abandoned huts and houses. The whole facility was located under the earth, and no one would ever see them again. Delilah didn’t consider herself a cruel person, but her sympathy for those blackmailing small businesses, selling drugs to children and trafficking women around the globe was rather limited.

In any case, until the transcripts came in she would have to sift through weeks and weeks of boring camera footage, trying to figure out whether they could recognize anyone who had been staking out Sakamoto’s brothels in Kabukicho. Delilah tried to focus on the clips, as much as her mind wondered why only her and her cohort were doing this. She wondered who she was even sending the cleared files to. She knew better than to ask, it was none of her business, but something about it just didn’t make sense. Obviously, it had been a trusted informant, otherwise Stewart wouldn’t be mobilizing the kind of resources he was using. And where was the point in finding your informant anyway? Something on this level – Stewart must have known them.

And Delilah couldn’t shake the feeling that even if they were to unearth any kind of hint towards whoever had done the legwork for them, it would be better if it wasn't passed on. She understood the internal politics of the agency, and she knew Stewart wanted this win for himself. No sharing the credit with another agency or agent, maybe from a smaller state who had chosen to pass the information on because they lacked the resources to take down a Yakuza operation. If Delilah had to place a bet, that would be her theory: Someone else had done the work and they would be getting the credit.

One of the figures in the recording she was watching caught her attention and she stopped the tape. Not too tall, Caucasian, moved like…a dancer. Or maybe not quite a dancer. Maybe something a little more lethal. The man reminded her, in a way, of her close combat instructor. But his face was covered by a mask. He wasn’t one of their current most wanted, because she knew those faces. He had his arm wrapped around a younger Japanese woman. They were in Kabukicho. The likelihood of this man being a tourist just hoping to get lucky was big. The likelihood of him having anything to do with the CIA or the Yakuza was small. Small, but not non-existent.

And ever since Alex Rider, once an abducted child, had taken over SCORPIA, underestimating an enemy wasn’t tolerated anymore. Many of her courses had focused on finding threats that might easily be ignored: too young, too feminine, too pregnant to be a killer.

So now Delilah was hesitant to dismiss it. But Stewart didn’t want anything to be found. What would she note down anyway, suspicious Caucasian male, late thirties, with a Japanese woman by his side? That description fit half the people in Kabukicho at any given time. Facial recognition wasn’t going to work, not with the mask, the bad lighting and the abysmal quality of the footage. Another disappointing truth about the spy life: There was no secret program that let you zoom in and enhance until you found what you needed.

Delilah wasn’t sure what to do. That’s when Michael, one of her fellow trainees, called out to her.

“Hey, Dee, coming to grab a drink with us? We’re leaving.”

She checked the time. It was past seven. Why did they even do overtime when they could be enjoying the nine to five life for once?

“Thanks, but my girlfriend said she’d cook.”

“Alright, enjoy!”

Everyone else was getting ready to leave, chattering loudly, bring their coffee cups to the kitchen, turning off their computers. Delilah was tapping her right index finger against her mouse, quicker and quicker, until she gave a deep sigh. She carefully marked where she had been, before closing the various open files. Everyone else had left by then. She put her coffee cup in the dish washer and turned it on. She was becoming paranoid. It was part of the training, but right now it wasn’t helpful. Caucasian guy had probably just been there for sex. Stewart wanted to make sure this was noted down as his win. Even if she had found something, it probably wouldn’t make a difference anyway. Stewart would just make sure it disappeared. So why bother?

Delilah liked to get in good with the dealer, and she wasn’t going to fuck over her new boss. She slung her brief case over her shoulder and left the room, her thoughts already with her girlfriend and the dinner that was waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know who we'll finally meet again next chapter? Alex! :D


	7. More Human Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a while - between uni and tendonitis I just wasn't up to much writing. But it's finally here!  
> Again: Warning for M-rated content of the non-sexy variety. Detailed warnings in the notes at the end.
> 
> Thanks a lot to galimau, whose delightfully filthy fingers helped with a delightfully filthy part of this ;)
> 
> Thanks for your patience and sticking with the story :)

After the party had ended, Alex returned to his room. Jack had raised a questioning eyebrow at him to see if he wanted company, but he’d shaken his head. Once Yassen had left, the alcohol had started flowing freely. Alex had decided to ignore his usual two drink rule and had a few beer plus a couple shots with Jarek and Shale who really liked to party.

Alex didn’t regret the beers, but he did regret the shots. He’d started with those once Jack and Tom had started talking about how long Lee knew Yassen, at which point they’d found out she had told Jack that she knew Yassen for ten years and had met him during a mission, while she told Tom she’d known Yassen for only two years and had no contact with him prior to being hired as security for his new estate. Marcus had been told she knew Yassen for the better part of two decades, and had once tried to kill Yassen’s target before he could get to it. Alex assumed that all the stories were lies.

Alex himself had not talked to Lee. Entering his room he saw someone had left a gift on his pillow. For a short moment, he tensed. Then he realized it was suspiciously book-shaped. Only one person would dare break into his cabin and leave something there. Slowly he opened the gift, which was wrapped in thick, expensive black paper. He wasn't surprised to find a book inside. The _Three-Body Problem_. On top of it was a simple white gift card. In Cyrillic letters it read _Happy birthday, Alex_. It was signed with the initials _YG_. Alex couldn't help but trace his thumb across those initials. Yassen had a habit of giving him expensive gifts.

For his 25th birthday he'd given him a floating command center worth half a billion dollar. This year it's been at least two million on bribes for what Alex thought was probably the most expensive lesson anyone had ever been taught. But he couldn't help but think that he liked his earlier gifts better. For his 18th birthday Yassin had gotten him a car. It was a cliché only made worse by the fact that the car in question had been an Aston Martin. Alex hadn't played James Bond for a while but for some reason all of Sagitta still found it incredibly funny. Yassen merely gave Alex a half-smile and a shrug when he asked for the reason it had to be this particular brand. Instead he explained to Alex how that would help him fit in with society in Dubai or Abu Dhabi. Just another rich kid in an expensive car who never had to worry about a thing in his life. Sometimes Alex wished it were true.

Alex's favorite gift however was the watch Yassen had gotten him for his 20th birthday. It was a Rolex Cellini Moonphase. He had been aware that it must have cost a fortune and when he looked it up later the price was just above 25 grand. But he didn’t like it just because it was eye-wateringly expensive, or beautifully crafted. On the back of it was an engraving. Just two Cyrillic letters. Initials.

But not Alex’s. Not AR. Instead –

_YG._

At that point it had been almost a year since they first slept with each other. Alex had been seeing Ruben for more than six months. Had been sure that whatever had happened between them had meant nothing to Yassen. Of course he was still Yassen’s heir, his successor and his Second in Command.

They were probably also friends - in some convoluted way. But Alex had tried to make peace with wanting Yassen in a way that he would never have him. Being given a watch with Yassen’s initials engraved on it was a clear message. Those letters would be pressed against his skin for every single minute he chose to wear the watch. There was no other way to interpret that than as a claim. So maybe Yassen wasn’t interested in him on a sexual level, but still considered Alex his. While not optimal, this gave Alex a certain peace of mind. Whatever this was – and he had no idea what it was at the tender age of twenty – it wasn’t one-sided. He’d put on the watch and never stopped wearing it. Had worn it this evening, too. Once, he’d had to send it in to get the wristband exchanged because he got too much blood on it, but other than that it had travelled the world with him.

Yassen could have told him, in his usual, clear terms, that he wasn’t interested. But he hadn’t. He’d started to give Alex hideously expensive gifts. There had been little touches and looks and a few times – more than that. But never anything regular. Never anything lasting. Never anything that made Alex feel like this was finally growing into something real. But always enough to keep him waiting for more.

Alex wasn’t quite sure what he was waiting for. He was twenty-six now, and Yassen retired. They were seeing each other a lot less than they used to while working together. He was happy Yassen had gotten out – had found some peace. But seeing him share his retirement with someone else hurt. Alex decided to take a shower and go to bed. There was no use in following his thoughts down familiar roads that never lead anywhere. Asking Yassen directly about what they were, and what Alex wanted them to be had never seemed like a real option.

After a hot shower and a change into comfortable clothes, Alex decided to go to sleep. Even if his thoughts would keep him up for a while, he at least had to try. The next day, he started making sure his security protocols were updated. Then he flew to Australia to meet Hyde and sort out some issues with their business there – it had steadily grown since they’d taken over what had once been Yu’s Snakehead. After that, he visited Nile in Vietnam. Almost two months passed, business was going well, and there was no news about Tokyo that indicated Yassen’s presence there had led to anyone’s early demise.

But in an organization like SCORPIA business as usual was more of an exception than the rule. That’s what Alex reminded him of when his regular daily briefing revealed not just one, but two issues at the same time. Jamie, his personal assistant, had the duty of compiling information into a shortened, concentrated form that made it easy for Alex to stay up to date.

Jamie was briefing Alex on current developments within SCORPIA, including state of current missions, operatives and new business opportunities. Without a board in place, Alex usually let his lieutenants formulate a plan of action, which he only had to approve. It saved him a lot of time. It was also useful to keep track of who was able to resolve problems to his satisfaction and who wasn’t.

“The Foreign Intelligence Service of the Russian Federation has reached out to us. They are willing to pay a hundred million US dollar for a large scale intel collection operation.”

Alex raised an eyebrow in interest. “Why that much?”

“They don’t want to set foot on American soil. But they do want access to voter registration systems, voter’s personal information, access to the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee computer network, the Democratic National Committee network, various candidate’s campaigns and-“

“They want to rig the Presidential election.”

It was an easy conclusion to make, and a bold move from a state that hadn’t been a superpower in decades. Jamie gave a short nod.

“It seems so.”

Alex turned it over in his head. He knew this wasn’t a decision he could make on a whim. SCORPIA had felled democratically elected governments in multiple countries, but to hack the American elections…that would certainly send a signal. It would probably reshape international relations. Russia could become a global threat once more. The Americans would definitely want to get even. Which meant Alex could offer to supply the assassins the Americans would need to do just that. There was a lot of money to be made.

“I’ll think about it. What else?”

“There’s been a major CIA operation in Tokyo. Leading Yakuzas have been captured, maybe killed - but we assume they’ve been brought to black sites for questioning. Many lower level Yakuza have been detained by Japanese police and military forces, the whole Greater Tokyo area has been hit in an unprecedented way. They must have been planning it for months. The most powerful of the Yakuza captured was Hayate Sakamoto. His father was assassinated by Cossack fifteen years ago.”

Alex’s hands were folded in his lap, where the expensive, heavy hardwood desk was concealing them from Jamie’s view. Like this Jamie couldn’t see that Alex’s knuckles were white from how hard he was clenching his hands. His blood was rushing in his ears – Yassen had been in Tokyo. Had anything happened to him? He certainly had a hand in this. What could have possibly prompted him to go back? Making sure a son wouldn’t try to avenge his father? And then not kill the man but hand him over to the CIA? Yassen could have told Alex, he could have send someone.

“What exactly was Cossack’s mission fifteen years ago?”

Jamie sounded apologetic.

“I don’t have the security clearance to look up the specifics. But when I entered the name Sakamoto in our database, Katashi Sakamoto showed up. A client paid to have him killed, and Cossack took the mission. That’s all I know.”

Alex nodded.

“Thank you for the update. Dismissed.”

Jamie thanked him and left. Alex took a deep breath once the blast-proof door had closed behind his assistant. When Yassen had left, Alex had kept his offices in Dubai. They were furnished with everything he needed and the security protocols had been perfected through the years. Looking out over the city through the vast glass windows, Alex knew it was time to have a look at Yassen’s files. He’d stalled long enough.

He arranged for transport to Malagosto. SCORPIA had multiple internal servers, including some that weren’t connected to the internet and could not be hacked. They stored information on past jobs, payment history, employee information, all the boring things any multinational company had to keep track of to be able to function. Unlike other multinationals, part of SCORPIA’s information were rather sensitive, though. Mission reports, detailed accounts of assassinations, acts of terror, bribery, intel on government agencies and competitors alike. Many of the most sensitive information had been only available to board members – and now were only available to Alex.

He was a little surprised Yassen hadn’t deleted his file completely, but it made sense that he would want Alex to have the chance to use it in case old operations became relevant again – like Tokyo just had.

Alex liked it whenever he had the chance to return to Malagosto. Although Yassen had moved the school, the set up was very similar to what it had been before. That Yassen had only moved the school about a hundred kilometers deeper into the center of the country still amused Alex. The intelligence world had been looking all over the globe, but no one had expected they had stayed in the same country. The older Alex got, the more he got to see of Yassen’s dry sense of humor, and he couldn’t help but like it.

When he arrived, he was greeted by Crux. She had become the new Headmaster of Malagosto after Three and d’Arc had both left.

“Welcome, Mr. Rider.”

She greeted him with the respect his current station deserved, not like she had known him as a teenager and showed him how to shave his legs and do his make-up. It was one of the main reasons Alex liked her: Even if they were close, she would never be anything than perfectly formal in public. She was also ruthless.

“Is John Gower still alive?”

Crux’s smile held an edge of lazy cruelty that Alex had become more comfortable with than he’d ever wanted to be when he was young.

“He died just last week. I used him as an example for the new students, and when I offered them to try some techniques, well, they were too eager. But he’d been hanging on by a thread anyway. I taped my sessions with him if you’re interested.”

“No, thank you. At least he was useful to us in the end.”

Crux lead him into the school building, pleasantly cool after the dry heat outside. Moving the school further into the country had made the climate even more punishing.

“He was indeed. The classes who get to see a demonstration and can practice themselves are a lot less squeamish in the field. Especially the younger ones.”

Alex knew very well what she was getting at.

“Even the young ones without demonstration will overcome that eventually,” he replied calmly and she nodded.

Crux lead him into the basement and then even lower. SCORPIA’s most important files were stored in a bunker that could withstand anything the military of various countries could throw at them. Alex sat down, opening the sturdy laptop in front of him, wondering what he would find.

“Will you be joining us for dinner or should I have something sent down?”

Alex didn’t need to think for long. This would take him at least a few hours.

“Tell the kitchen to leave something out for me. I’ll pick it up later.”

Crux accepted the order and left. Alex typed in his password, scanned his fingerprints and his retina. Then the vast vault of information SCORPIA had amassed over decades lay open before him. He searched for Yassen’s file immediately. If he didn’t, he may decide to delay this again.

The picture attached to Yassen’s file had been taken when he was thirty-five. The age Alex had first met him. More than ten years ago. Yassen had aged well – there was barely any difference. But now, when Yassen smiled, the fine lines around his eyes had become more visible. His hair was still blond, no trace of grey or white to be found. But Yassen was only in his mid-forties. He was young for someone retired. It was only the work in the field that one needed to be in perfect physical shape for. Yu and Three were proof that as an executive, one could work much longer. Yassen had retired because he wanted to, not because he had to. Alex still hadn’t decided how long he would want to do this job.

Alex searched the incredibly amount of missions Yassen had undertaken in his career with SCORPIA for the name Sakamoto first. As Jamie had said, there was an entry fifteen years ago. The mission report was dry and rather uninteresting - a fairly standard mission, if challenging – until Alex found the name Lee. The few lines dedicated to her had been short and to the point.

_Abducted as a teenager. Forced into servitude and cosmetic surgery. Exploitable weakness to get close to Sakamoto._

There was a small file about Lee – her real name, pictures of her before the surgery, the death certificates of her parents and twin sister. Alex stared at the picture of the fifteen-year-old Natsuko Yoshida in disbelief. She looked completely different from the Lee he had met. It made sense, Alex thought, after the cosmetic surgery. It also explained her seemingly undefinable age. The surgeons had done a good job making her look younger, but she was still aging.

What didn’t make sense was why Yassen would choose someone he’d met through these circumstances as the head of security for his new estate. There were no other missions in which Lee showed up, but that didn’t mean her and Yassen hadn’t stayed in contact over the years. Alex had the distinct feeling he wouldn’t find out more about Lee in these files. He would have to ask either her or Yassen. It was time to move on.

Yassen’s file was big. Alex could read through dozens of missions and would never learn anything about the man, the mission reports always dry and devoid of emotion. If he wanted personal information, he would have to get into his time at Malagosto. His sessions with Dr. Steiner.

So he decided to start at the beginning. Yassen had first been brought in by an agent who had been sent to kill a Russian oligarch. Yassen had been…some kind of servant? It made little sense to Alex. He kept reading and found it curious they had taken a chance on Yassen. He didn’t have an official identity and certainly proven he was strong by surviving on the streets, but when it came to weapons and self defense training, Yassen had had little to show for himself.

He was distracted from his thoughts when he came across a picture of Yassen at eighteen. He looked a lot younger, his face thin, almost gaunt. There was a softness to his eyes, an insecurity in his expression that Alex had never seen in an older Yassen. He’d never thought of Yassen as soft or insecure before. As careful, maybe even gentle, but never as soft. Yassen had trained him – would have broken him to see him survive – but looking at this younger version of Yassen, Alex couldn’t help but wish he would have been able to protect him. The Yassen looking at him from this picture was no killer. He didn’t even look dangerous.

There was a psychological evaluation and videos from sessions with Dr. Steiner. Alex decided to watch the videos to form his own opinion, rather than just believe what SCORPIA’s files told him.

Yassen was slender. He had always had a slimmer body type than Alex, which had become obvious once Alex left puberty behind, but in these first few videos, Yassen looked almost malnourished.

_“Yassen, why don’t we pick up where we left off the last time. You ended up with Sharkovsky because you broke into his apartment in Moscow. You tried to flee?”_

_Yassen looked at the doctor with his eyes carefully guarded._

_“Yes. I knew I had to get back to Moscow somehow. So I tried to flee but I failed.”_

_“Why did you fail?”_

_Yassen was quiet for a while. Dr. Steiner patiently waited._

_“I hadn’t been trained yet.”_

_There was almost a smile on Dr. Steiner’s face, before it disappeared._

_“Yassen, you already told Mrs. Rothman everything about the death of your family and your time with Sharkovsky. There is no point in drawing this out. In order to graduate you will have to have finished your psychological evaluation.”_

_Yassen’s posture was still stiff, but it seemed a little defeated. Nevertheless, he started talking._

_“Sharkovsky used violence to keep me obedient. He told me if I tried to escape again, he would kill me. He’d already beaten me half to death for trying. There was little point in persisting. I decided to bide my time.”_

_“You spent almost four years as his slave.”_

_Yassen flinched. His hands were folded, his knuckles white from the pressure. He didn’t reply._

_“Yassen? You are aware of what you were to Sharkovsky.”_

_A nod. Nothing else. Yassen’s face carefully blank in an expression that was close to the perfect mask he used later._

_“Yassen, I would like to work on your approach of dealing with your past. The work of a SCORPIA operative is challenging and you need to be able to handle your past emotional traumas better.”_

_Another nod._

_“I think it would be helpful if you were to write a diary. Put down everything that happened since your family was murdered until the day you arrived in Malagosto. Bring me whatever you’ve written two days before our sessions, and then we will discuss it.”_

_“Yes, Dr. Steiner.”_

_“Try to write both narratively and expressively. If you fail to consider your emotions, it won’t be of any help, and if you don’t take care to make sense of what meaning something had in the greater structure of your life, it might lead to an affective disorder.”_

_“Yes, Dr. Steiner.”_

Alex paused the video, looking at this skinny, young version of Yassen that seemed so breakable. A few more clicks showed him that Steiner had indeed scanned and saved Yassen’s diary entries. As Alex read the story of how Yassen’s parents had died, how his whole village had been obliterated, he couldn’t help but feel powerless anger rising in his chest. Yassen had been fourteen, just like him. A kid on the streets of Moscow. And then – Sharkovsky. The entries were getting harder and harder to read.

_“Once, I found myself looking in the mirror because there was a stain on my shirt. There was to be a dinner that night and I was genuinely embarrassed, afraid I would let my master down. At that moment, I was disgusted with myself. I saw, quite clearly, what I was becoming…perhaps what I had already become.”_

Alex pushed his chair away from the laptop, forced himself to take a deep breath. He had known Yassen had a harsh life. He had known that just like him, somewhere along the way someone had fucked him over and put him in this position. Taken away his family and friends and made sure that something like SCORPIA was the only option he had left. Despite suspecting all that, he hadn’t expected this. Had never thought anyone would be able to break Yassen – but the Yassen he was reading about was a teenager. The Yassen he had met years later was a hardened killer. Maybe that Yassen couldn’t be broken. But this young version of Yassen…he had been close. Very close.

Alex was vivid with rage and the powerlessness ate at him – he hadn’t been powerless in years. Even getting up, pacing around the room did nothing to relieve the tension inside him. He hadn’t been alive back then. He couldn’t have changed anything. But reading this it became abundantly clear why Yassen had a hard time connecting with people. Why he had chosen Lee as security and company. She understood what it was like to be owned without having someone powerful to look out for you like Alex had had in Yassen.

It took Alex a few minutes of pacing and clenching his fingers into fists until he calmed down enough to take a seat again. He knew he had a temper, but this was important. If Yassen could live through it, Alex could bear to at least read about it.

Seated once more, Alex finally had a look at Dr. Steiner’s evaluation. He had come to different conclusions at different times and noted down possible diagnoses whenever he found something new.

_Depressive episode during his time as Sharkovsky’s slave, appropriate emotional reactions to humiliation and dehumanization could not be evoked during therapy. Memories of parent’s death can be classified as trauma, but never lead to the development of PTSD. High-functioning. Gifted – IQ of 139. Lack of emotional expression could lead to self-destructive behavior. To maintain asset value regular therapy is recommended._

There were other things Steiner had considered but seemed to be unsure about. Alex scrolled through the various additions he had made during Yassen’s time as a student and young operative.

_Sociopathic tendencies – psychopathic? – but failure to kill first target. Lack of emotional expression does not equal lack of inner life?_

_Friendship with fellow student Colette? – no reaction to her death_

_Recommended for seduction classes by Hunter – wrong personality. Unable to charm, connect or make targets feel safe. Training would likely be a waste of resources._

That last one made Alex hesitate. He knew seduction classes were taught at Malagosto – but they were optional, like all training after an operative had first graduated. It required recommendation by a senior operative and a psychological evaluation.

Alex couldn’t even imagine Yassen as a seduction operative. His father, however, had recommended him for it. There could be many reasons for it – maybe Hunter hadn’t known Yassen as well as Alex did. Maybe he had genuinely believed it. At the same time, Alex knew his father wasn’t that naïve. He was feeling nauseous, remembering Rothman’s crush on his father. His father had spent months training Yassen. Maybe she had, in some irrational way, been jealous of Yassen. Had decided that Yassen was some kind of competition. Had wanted to see him suffer. And after Hunter’s betrayal…it would make sense she would take her pound of flesh from Hunter’s apprentice, since she had already killed the man himself. Alex’s anger had abated, and now he only felt a dull sense of dread as he kept scrolling.

Steiner’s veto had been overridden. Someone had decided Yassen would get trained in seduction work, and so he had. He passed the course. There were pictures, and since Alex hadn’t had any better angels in years, he clicked on them. They were – suggestive. Obviously, Alex told himself, it was the only thing that made sense.

But scrolling through those pictures of Yassen, with his lips slightly open and his eyes half-lidded, a faint hint of wetness on his lips, as if recently licked or kissed, he couldn’t help but swallow. Some of them made Yassen look painfully young. A hint of make-up, a bit of rouge and some lip gloss and he looked barely legal. Perfect jailbait. Even thinking about it made Alex feel dirty, but he knew how useful an operative like that could be: Young, still a teenager, trained as an assassin and escort both. Yassen would have been able to get into places no normal Malagosto graduate would have received access to. Julia Rothman had hit two birds with one stone: Take her pound of flesh from Hunter’s apprentice and create a unique, skilled, lethal operative. Cossack was still the best SCORPIA had ever trained. From a professional angle, Rothman’s decision made perfect sense. Alex hated himself for being a person who could see the business side of what had happened to Yassen.

When Alex reached the pictures that showed Yassen with one of his instructors, his anger came back in full force. The man was taller and broader than Yassen, pulling Yassen back against his chest, one hand splayed over Yassen’s lower stomach. The man looked smug, and Yassen a little shy, looking away from the camera, his eyes demurely cast down. This was _advertisement_ , Alex realized. SCORPIA had a specialized operative and they wanted clients to be aware what they would be paying for.

There were videos, too. Most of them as proof to clients that a target had been eliminated, but obviously they had taped whatever had happened before, too. Alex knew that he shouldn’t watch it. He knew he had an ugly temper and that he wanted Yassen, that he would never enjoy what he would have to watch. But still, like a moth drawn to light, he blindly picked a video and pressed play.

_The camera had been installed to capture almost the whole room. The furniture was modern: a table made of dark wood dominated the camera frame, sturdy and large. Comfortable armchairs, angled close to the makeshift stage, occupied by men looking forgettably powerful. In the background, the room was ringed with artistically decorated shelves and plush couches. Blue lighting made everything look surreal._

_On top of the table, among bottles of expensive liquor, pills and uncorked vials of coke, two figures danced. Making their way around the signs of wealth and excess, never letting go of the other. A woman and a man, both barely dressed. Alex had never seen the woman before, but the man was clearly a younger Yassen. The woman wore a short pretense of a skirt and a lace bra, Yassen only shorts made of black silk that caught the low light. It was him who Alex’s eyes kept catching on. He never had much interest in women but there was something compelling about the way they moved together._

_Both of them were young and exceptionally beautiful, their movements liquid and smooth. The dim lighting of the lounge gave grace to even their flaws, turning intoxicated dizziness into something seductive. Missed steps seemed like artistic choice rather than the result of too much alcohol or drugs. One moment they were merely swaying in each other’s arms, then they rose to their toes in dramatic twirls, never quite tipping over the edge. The table was high enough, solid enough, that an honest mistake could have ended in tragedy. If either of them was nervous about their performance, it was impossible to tell. They seemed entranced with each other’s presence. Pulling each other close, making out messily, tongues visible and shining wet. Yassen dragging his perfect lips over her cheek, nipping at her ear as she wrapped a long leg around his waist. A lazy roll of her hips into his, her back arching as his hand slipped below her waist. He was toying with the hem of that small skirt as she wound delicate fingers with long red nails through his blonde hair, pushing his mouth to the curve of her neck._

_If they were still dancing, it was to something different than the crooning jazz from hidden speakers. Still the moment broke when the song was over. The dancers detangled themselves, hands lingering on each other’s arms, flashing dazzling smiles at each other and their audience. Both laughed when the woman kicked a whiskey bottle out of their way, liquor spilling all over the table in an expensive mess. They clung to each other again, giggling and trying to avoid getting their feet wet, standing on the balls of their feet like children playing at ballet._

_Rather than the almost pornographic movement of before, it made them seem painfully young. The two men who had been watching from the armchairs, both with hair that glinted silver in the night and solidly built with age and comfort, stood to approach the table, lifting their entertainment to safety - or something like it. Alex’s eyes caught on Yassen once more, moving fluidly, elegantly, like spilled oil, almost flowing into the man’s arms, wrapping his legs around his waist and arms around his neck. The man leaned in for a kiss, and Yassen gave it willingly. Opened his lips to welcome it as if he wanted it and –_

Alex stopped the video. Hated the men in the video, hated himself for thinking that Yassen had been beautiful like _that_. Used and abused. He looked up the mission report, both men ended up dead, the woman only mentioned as an _associate_ called Gabriella.

There was no point in being enraged, these people were long dead by Yassen’s hand, but Alex could feel his heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in his ears. He had been trained well but it was harder to ignore his body’s signals now than during his usual missions. This was about Yassen. Someone who had protected him and saved his life and who was, plain and simple, the most important person Alex had left in this world.

Alex hovered over the button that would lead him to more of these missions – not sure he wanted to see it. Not sure, even with Yassen’s spoken permission, if he had any right to see this. But he’d learned that not knowing something never made anything better and selected a random mission. The report was dry and to the point, as usual for Yassen.

_After dinner I spent the night with the target, hacked into his computer and stole the requested data before leaving._

That was the only sentence in the whole report that made it clear anything had happened. Alex wasn’t even sure what he had expected – a detailed, graphic description? But this wasn’t it. How casual Yassen was about everything – as if sex wasn’t something personal. Meaningful. Something you did with someone you desired and at least cared about, someone you had made sure was safe to be vulnerable with. But that didn’t apply to someone with Yassen’s training.

Alex went through a few more reports. Most of them were just as bland.

_Target frequently used young male hookers. Dressed to his tastes and got picked up by him at around nine pm. Killed him in his car and disposed of the body._

_Taped sexual intercourse with the target, blackmailed her into revealing information about her family’s business. Tape not deleted as promised, can be used for future blackmail._

Alex did not click on the video attached. Instead, he kept scrolling.

_Engaged in intercourse with subject at the nightclub. Additional bloodwork needed due to lack of protection. Reported to medical because of internal bleeding._

Alex took a deep breath before closing that report. After anger and dread, now he felt overcome with white-hot fury.

Yassen had lost his parents and grandmother, ended up a child on the streets of Moscow, had been a slave for four years, and once he’d come to SCORPIA, he had to pay for Hunter’s betrayal which wasn’t his fault at all. Alex’s vision was clear and his heart rate as fast as if he were in a war zone, his hands were opening and closing around weapons he wasn’t holding. His nerves felt on fire and he didn’t know what to do. Alex knew he had developed an ugly temper and his fingers were itching to break someone’s neck for what the world had done to Yassen.

But Sharkovsky, Rothman, all of them were dead. At least Yassen had gotten his revenge.

Alex balled his hands into fists. Presses his nails into his palms until the skin broke. Ground his teeth together. His vision blurred red. It wasn’t enough. He left the room, ran up the stars. Made his way to the range. Opened it up and closed it behind him. Grabbed the first gun and ammo and started shooting.

A male target, and he imagined Sharkovsky’s face. Headshot. Headshot. Headshot. One, two, three bullets into his heart. The last two between his legs. New magazine, new target.

Headshot. Headshot. Headshot. One, two, three bullets into his heart. The last two between his legs. New magazine, new target.

Alex kept shooting. Lost track of time. Female target. He imagined the face of Julia Rothman. All headshots this time. New magazine, new target, all headshots again.

Alex lost track of time. At some point, his hands became steadier. Headshots landed between the eyes. His breathing slowed down. He grabbed another gun. Kept going.

Imagined faceless people, those on Yassen’s mission. Alex wasn’t sure when he stopped shooting, but he knew it must have been hours. His breathing and his hands were steady, his mind calmed down. His temper in check once more.

Slowly, things were slotting into place. Most importantly, why Yassen had kept his distance. For him, sex didn’t have the same meaning it had for Alex. It was something he was good at – excellent at. As Alex had been able to find out for himself. Yassen didn’t consider sex something personal between two people who loved and desired each other, but as a means to an end. It was no way of connecting, as Alex tended to see it. Yassen had kept Alex at a physical distance, but always considered him his.

And while Alex had been blackmailed by his own government and had to sign an exclusive contract at fifteen, practically signing away his life, he had had Yassen to watch over him through all that. Someone incredibly powerful at his side. Yassen had had no one. And John Rider…had never cared half as much as Alex used to believe. He’d left Yassen behind, to be trained in seduction work – to be whored out, because the euphemism sounded wrong to Alex’s ears after reading those files– and probably never lost a night of sleep over it.

Without conscious thought, Alex imagined the next male target as John Rider. The gun was steady in his hands by that point, and he hesitated for a moment. Alex had never known his father. He had chosen to believe that he was a good man – despite the evidence to the contrary. Despite how good of a killer he had been, how little he had minded his time at SCORPIA. But to know his father had treated Yassen like this, had been willing to leave him behind so easily…it drove home just how much Yassen had cared about him in return. Yassen hadn’t owed Alex anything. Technically, his debt to his father had been repaid when he chose not to sell him out to SCORPIA. What he had done for Alex went far beyond that. More importantly, though, it made it clear how little John Rider had cared for a young boy who had thought the world of him. In a way, Alex knew, Yassen still did. It made him angry.

Alex looked at the blond target for a moment longer. Then he pulled the trigger. Headshot. Headshot. Headshot. It was almost cathartic. While his hands were occupied, his mind was free to roam.

So many things suddenly made sense. Alex vividly remembered when they had been in South America trying to negotiate the deal with the Blanco Cartel.

In the middle of the negotiations, a young man had come over, folded himself into a kneeling position and pillowed his head on Yassen’s thigh. He had introduced himself as “James, but you can call me Jamie” and looked up at Yassen with open eyes. Yassen’s reaction was calmer than Alex had anticipated, given how averse Yassen was to physical contact. Yassen hadn’t even given Jamie more than a glance before he focused on Rafe instead.

“The entertainment is at your disposal,” was all Rafe had to say.

“I break it, I bought it?”, he’d asked, voice neutral as if talking about an object. Rafe had laughed and nodded.

Jamie had look at Yassen with pleading eyes and Yassen had reached for the coke on the table and offered the young man kneeling next to him a bump that was thankfully accepted. Alex had been speechless. Yassen’s hand was petting the boy’s head while he had kept negotiating with Rafe. It had felt surreal to Alex.

After the first round of negotiations was over, Rafe had offered Yassen to take Jamie with him to his rooms. Yassen had accepted with an easy nod. Alex shouldn’t have felt jealous of someone younger than him in as sad a position as this. Alex had little experience with drugs but could recognize an addict when he saw one. Still, he would have preferred if it had been him on his knees next to Yassen, his head pillowed on Yassen’s thigh.

Up in their rooms, Yassen had put a knife and a vial of coke on the table and asked Jamie to share what he knew about Rafe. A threat wasn’t needed. Jamie had told him all he knew, including petty feuds among some regular visitors. Then Yassen had given him some more coke and told Mace to have an eye on him through the night. Jamie had slept in one of the guest rooms in their vast apartment.

“Why?”, Alex had asked.

“I could hardly drink or accept the coke he offered. Refusing his hospitality completely would have been impolite. Like this he can feel like he’s hosting me as Head of SCORPIA decently, and I can avoid being high or drunk while negotiating.”

It had made sense. Of course it had, Yassen would never do something that wasn’t benefitting his goals. Jamie spent the rest of the time they were there for negotiations on Yassen’s side and slept in their apartment. At the end, Rafe offered him as a gift after they’d signed the contract.

“Consider him a signing bonus.”

Yassen had accepted and nodded and that had been all. They had taken Jamie home with them. No conversation about the morality of owning human beings or what would happen to Jamie. Alex had asked Yassen for permission to take care of Jamie, and it had been granted easily. Yassen had no interest in the young man, and that didn’t bode well for him. But Alex didn’t want Jamie to die.

Alex had made sure Jamie went through Rehab. After that, Jamie had spent some time at Malagosto before becoming Alex’s personal assistant. He was clever, but more importantly, Alex could trust him. He had known Jamie when he’d had nothing but an addiction he could barely sustain. Alex understood better why Yassen had trusted him so much now. Having saved someone created a special kind of loyalty nothing else came close to.

Alex had always wondered why Yassen had been so calm when Jamie approached him. Why he had known exactly what to do, to offer him coke and take him to his room and pet him like one would a dog. Yassen had known because he had been Jamie, once upon a time. Knew intimately well what it meant to be in that position. He hadn’t been gentle, but he had been merciful. Had never objected to Alex taking Jamie under his wing.

Alex had dinner alone. It was long past midnight. He was happy he didn’t have to face Crux, or the current students. Put on a façade of calm indifference. His temper had cooled down but was still simmering under the surface. Yassen seemed to have accepted all the injustices in his life. Steiner had written he hadn’t even been angry during therapy. Alex felt like he had to be angry on Yassen’s behalf.

Alex flew out the next day. He hadn’t taken any notes, hadn’t copied any files. If he wanted to look up more things about Yassen’s past, he would have to go back.

He accepted the mission from the Russians and oversaw it himself. It would require analysts instead of combat teams, Malagosto operatives known more for their skill in intelligence work rather than assassinations. Alex didn’t need to consult the files to know which operatives were currently available. He knew perfectly fine who would make an excellent lieutenant for this mission. Someone who had worked with the CIA often since he started as an operative, knew the ins and outs of other American intelligence agencies, and had enough experience to be considered for an operation as important as this.

Alex had no rational reason not to involve Anhur in this mission other than their personal history, and he’d stopped making business decisions based on emotions long ago. Ever since their break-up, Alex kept their meetings short and to the point. Not that Anhur was a major player within SCORPIA. He was competent and finished his missions without issues, but he didn’t have Nile’s talent or Crux’s ruthlessness or Klinge’s drive. He wasn’t one of Alex’s closest circle, but to ignore his expertise for this mission just because they had a past would be unprofessional.

The briefing Alex gave was short and to the point. Anhur nodded, accepted, and proceeded to ask detailed questions about the scope and planning of the operation. Ruben had aged well – he was in his early thirties, but the harsher lines of his face made him look more severe. He had a beard these days. Alex supposed it looked good, but it made him look a lot less like Yassen, and therefore a lot less interesting to Alex.

Alex reviewed Malagosto’s protocol regarding seduction operatives. They were much too profitable to get rid of, but Alex made sure it was truly voluntary. Regular psychological evaluations during training and later. The payment was already good, took the risks into consideration. Alex wasn’t quite satisfied with what he’d done, but it was better than nothing. The compromise he’d made thousands of times since he had become Head. The compromise he had made to have this position in the world.

Weeks passed, and while Alex was busy with the day to day responsibilities as the Head of SCORPIA, he couldn’t help but come back to what he had learned about Yassen, over and over again.

He would plan a mission and realize how many things Yassen had saved him from, how many parts of the dirty underbelly of this business there were that Alex had never even had to see because Yassen had taken him under his wing. Alex’s youth had been harsh and brutal, but he had survived and grown stronger because of it. Without Yassen’s help, SCORPIA would have eaten him up. Without Yassen, Alex wouldn’t be alive right now. He’d always known that Yassen cared, of course, but now that Alex was older, that he fully understood the scope of what SCORPIA did, the ugliest, dirtiest parts of it – now he felt like he could fully appreciate what Yassen had done for him.

The gifts _,_ the rewards, the _claims,_ they made more sense, too. Yassen cared, Yassen considered him his. Hell, Yassen had bought Alex’s contract from SCORPIA. A present for his seventeenth birthday – “Now you’re not SCORPIA’s property anymore”. He had, of course, been Yassen’s property, but that had never felt threatening. That had felt like safety to Alex.

Yassen had wanted Alex to see others. To be a teenager or young adult at least in that regard. Make his own experiences. Not have that part of him taken over by SCORPIA too. He remembered how Crux had mentioned the seduction lessons at Malagosto. Without Yassen…maybe Alex would have been put through that training. The mere idea made him shiver. To be that vulnerable with strangers – he highly doubted he would have been able to do it. Then again, he never thought he’d be able to kill for money. Had Yassen decided to break him down and rebuild him to his liking, he probably would have done whatever Yassen asked.

Time passed, and Alex realized he would have to speak to Yassen. Put everything on the table. Clear things up. He couldn’t be bent over the same mission report for an hour, wondering about what ifs. What if Yassen had been that particular seduction operative? Would Alex mind using him for this job? It was moot and pointless and it was helping no one. Besides, Alex wanted to know what had happened in Tokyo. At least the vague outline of it, but more than just his own speculations. He was in his office in Dubai, which was an hour ahead of Saint Petersburg. It would be eight pm for Yassen. It was as good a time to call as any, Alex decided. He reached for his phone and turned away from his desk, looking out over the city instead. Alex dialed before he could decide otherwise.

The line was secure and it only rang twice before Yassen picked up.

“Yes?”

No name, no greeting, but a tone of expectancy that made Alex aware of the fact he hadn’t called Yassen over this line before. It might as well be him wanting to warn Yassen that someone was on their way to attack him, and that he had only hours to disappear. One syllable in a flat tone of voice, but it spoke volumes to Alex. He really was trained to Yassen’s requirements, even now.

“I would like to come visit. Would two weeks from now work for you?”

There’s a faint huff of breath on the other side, practically laughter for Yassen’s standards.

“I have time.”

He was retired, of course he had time. But that wasn’t what Alex had meant.

“Would you like me to come?”

A moment of silence this time, the weird feeling of not quite tension in the air. Maybe anticipation. Maybe it was just hope.

“I would like it if you came, yes.”

Yassen’s tone was still flat, but the slightest bit warmer. To Alex, it felt like a faint caress. Like he’d just won something.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you. I’ll call if anything changes. Expect me Friday evening.”

Alex’s own voice sounded far too happy, almost giddy, but Yassen didn’t comment.

“Alright. See you.”

No names. Never any names, even over the secure line. Alex didn’t know why he needed to hear his name from Yassen’s lips so badly. But he would see him soon enough.

“See you.”

Yassen ended the call before Alex could, but it still felt like a win. Alex would always be younger than Yassen, always less experienced. But knowing what he knew now, it felt like something had shifted. More important, that if Alex played his cards right, even more could change.

Alex took a deep breath, turned back around to his desk and put his phone away. He knew it would be good to see Yassen again. The mere anticipation was making him feel lighter than he had in weeks.

Who Yassen was to Alex had changed over the last decade, but what he was remained firmly the same: Alex's own personal center of gravity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Rape mention, forced prostitution, addiction


	8. One Bite At A Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the time the next chap rolls aorund I should be done with my thesis so I hope then updates will be quicker again?  
> But for now, enjoy :)

Alex was twenty-six years old but waiting the two weeks until he could see Yassen made him feel like a kid waiting for Christmas. It was ridiculous. It shouldn’t feel like this and he wasn’t even sure Yassen would like it if he knew just how much Alex was thinking about him. In a matter that was neither professional nor friendly. Not that he was ever going to tell Yassen that, unless…unless the visit would go in the best possible direction.

Alex told himself to expect less, to curb his enthusiasm. He felt like a six-year-old boy on Christmas Eve and he might very well discover there was no present waiting to be unwrapped once he arrived in St. Petersburg. Just because he knew Yassen’s past now, just because things had slotted into place for him didn’t mean anything had changed for Yassen. Alex knew himself well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to stop hoping that maybe, after years, their relationship would finally change into what he wanted it to be. But he was also realistic enough to prepare himself for the possibility that nothing would happen at all, that Yassen would talk to him and answer some questions and bid him good night after. That Alex would go to sleep in the guest room with nothing but his own hand for company. That he would spent the rest of his life alone, occasionally hooking up with someone who could hold his interest for a night, maybe a few, before the realization set in once more: That it was Yassen, and would always be Yassen, and everyone else was nothing but a place holder, and a bad one at that. No one compared, and if Alex couldn’t have Yassen, at least he’d make sure to finally draw a line under all of this and move on. Get his heart broken at last, so he could try to mend it.

In between his dramatic thoughts about Yassen and feelings and other such things, Alex focused on running SCORPIA. Setting up an operation to rig a presidential election was delicate work, and Alex could only spend so much time wondering how his next visit to the dacha would go. But he would find himself staring at a report, imagining Yassen opening the door for him. He drifted off during his daily briefings to think about how Yassen had kissed him that first time. Alex was torn between his usual, effective self that had made its peace with the situation between Yassen and him, and this new hopeful part of him that anticipated change.

Rationally, he knew he was lucky he wasn’t required in the field right now, because he would have been an easy target. But on the other hand, so many things had fallen into place. He understood Yassen better than ever before now that he knew about his childhood and beginning with SCORPIA.

Yassen would never approve of Alex’s current state of mind, and Alex didn’t need to read his file to know that. Being caught in your head got you killed and made you careless, things Yassen would never accept. But there was an end in sight. When he boarded his plane two weeks after their phone call, Alex felt warmth curling inside him. He always missed Yassen, this time it had simply been worse. He tried to read a few chapters of the Three-Body Problem and found himself genuinely drawn in by the book. By the time they arrived in St. Petersburg, he was halfway through the story.

Ivey had been his designated driver ever since that assassination attempt in South Africa. The drive from the airport to the dacha was mostly quiet. They were listening to mellow folk songs on the radio. Somewhere along the way, Sagitta had become more than just his favored combat team and personal protection detail. He felt safe with them, and the silence between Alex and Ivey wasn’t uncomfortable.

When Alex arrived at the dacha, he realized this was only the second time he was visiting Yassen here. It had been more than a year since Yassen’s retirement, and this was only the third time they were meeting up. It wasn’t enough, in Alex’s opinion.

The guards checked his car, and when Ivey came to stand in front of the main door, Alex got out and was surprised at how mild the air was. It was June, and after the hot climate of Dubai, St. Petersburg was a welcome change. It was pleasantly warm and he was looking forward to another run in the forest.

When Alex took the few steps up to the front door, it was Lee who opened it before he could even knock. It was odd to meet her again knowing her background, remembering the picture of her at fifteen, when she had looked completely different. Alex felt sorry for her. He understood why she hadn’t taken it well when Alex had talked over her the last time he’d been here. Maybe, he thought, they could get past that. Alex knew both Dr. Three and Yassen had found it astounding how easily he forged friendships despite being in this busines. Lee would be a good friend to have, given how much she shared with Yassen.

“Welcome back, Alex.”

Her tone was polite, professional. He nodded in acknowledgement.

“Hello, Lee.”

Alex watched her movements as she led him inside, remembering that it had been her to attack the _Bucephalus_. That effortless grace made him wonder if Yassen had ever taken time off to train her. He could imagine it, and the thought made him slightly jealous. But that was nothing compared to the jealousy he used to feel for her when he thought himself replaced. It was kind of ridiculous, in retrospect. Alex was happy Yassen had friends he could spend time with, talk to and rely on. Apart from Lee and himself, he didn’t know a single person Yassen would consider a friend.

The dacha looked just like the last time. The first door to the right lead into Yassen’s big, sprawling kitchen, and the smell coming out of it was heavenly. When Lee stopped outside of it, Alex suspected it was because was Yassen inside. One look into the room proved him right. It made Alex’s heart ache to see Yassen between pans and ingredients, focused in the same way he would be while planning a hit or an operation spanning the whole globe. But now Yassen could choose what to use that focus for, and that one of his choices was something as mundane and civilian as cooking made Alex feel fiercely protective of him.

Yassen turned around, the corners of his mouth lifting the tiniest fraction, but Alex counted it as a smile. It was enough for him, he could read Yassen well enough.

“Hello, Alex. Good to see you. Lee, why don’t you bring him to the table, I’ll be right out.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Alex managed, feeling out of his depth.

Alex felt like the world had suddenly shifted off its axis. A few hours ago, he’d still been signing assassination orders, and now he was going to enjoy a meal prepared by Yassen Gregorovich himself. He knew Yassen was able to cook, had enjoyed his cooking the last time he stayed here, but this was different. Yassen was using multiple different pots and pans, there were lots of ingredients still standing around, and he had obviously prepared a meal with multiple courses. Alex didn’t know much about cooking, but it looked like a lot of work.

This didn’t feel like the world he lived in. He didn’t get greeted with home-cooked meals. Not even as a child. Certainly not by Yassen, former Head of SCORPIA. Lee motioned for him to keep walking, and after a last longing glance at Yassen working at the stove, he followed her. Alex had the irrational, but surprisingly strong wish to be allowed to join Yassen in the kitchen, hand him spices and dice vegetables for him and just…share time and space with him.

Alex had never had a family, not the kind he wanted. Would probably never have it. The idea of sharing something as domestic with Yassen as cooking was something that seemed so big, so far out of reach. And yet it had been so close for a moment.

Lee led him to the living room first, the big windows letting in the last of the fading sunlight, bathing the dark wood of the many bookshelves in a golden glow. To the left side of the room was a door to what Alex assumed had to be a dining room. The table inside the kitchen would have been perfectly fine, but apparently Yassen had decided it would not do. Alex had long since stopped questioning Yassen’s decisions. The dining room, just like the larger living room, contained a fireplace with beautiful ornaments and a marble mantelpiece. It was the kind of understated wealth Alex had seen often during the last years, in the homes of those who didn’t need to worry about money and had no need to showcase it either. The table in the center had already been laid, and if it hadn’t been June, Alex knew there would have been a fire crackling away in the fireplace. It reminded Alex a little of the cabin they’d lived in, except that the room was larger than the kitchen in their cabin had been, and the interior a lot more expensive. There was a painting displayed on one of the walls that Alex couldn’t possibly place in any period of art. The style was old-fashioned, but it showed a modern scene.

People were playing music, one person had a guitar, another was seated at the drums, and someone was playing the saxophone. A young woman was holding a microphone and sung. The room was beautifully furnished and there were lush, green plants lining the walls. The window was open to let in fresh air, and two small figures could be seen dancing outside on the street.

“It is beautiful,” Alex commented.

Lee had been looking at it as well and nodded.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m sure dinner will be ready soon.”

Alex almost asked her if she would stay to eat with them but decided against it. She didn’t know he knew about her past and connection to Yassen. There was little else to be said as long as he kept pretending not to know her, and he didn’t plan on letting that on. How would he even start that conversation? _By the way, I know you got kidnapped as a girl and sold into prostitution?_

So silence it was. The door was still slightly open, and Alex could hear pans being set down, water running, something being stirred with the spoon clanking against the pot. No footsteps, though. Yassen was quiet on his feet as always. Still, it made Alex long for a form of companionship he wasn’t sure he’d ever have. He’d never thought he’d ever consider being allowed to help Yassen cook a milestone in his life, but now it had been added to his list and Alex was an ambitious man.

It didn’t take long before Yassen started bringing over the food from the kitchen. When Alex offered him his help, he denied with a slight shake of his head.

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary."

Alex knew it wasn't necessary. Knew that Yassen didn't need his help with anything, much less something as trivial as bringing food from one room to another. But that didn't change that he really wanted to help. The food looked delicious. Alex had travelled a lot during his life, and tried the cuisine of many countries, but this was something Yassen had prepared just for him. It was special.

“What are we having?”

Yassen looked at him and stared to explain.

“We start with ikra, served on dark bread. Then Shchi, a cabbage soup also containing potatoes, carrots and onions. Main course is Beef Stroganoff, and for dessert, Morozhenoe."

Alex always found it curious to realize that whenever he went and visited Yassen, or even was alone with him, they tended to slip into Russian. He spoke it very well by now, probably his best language after English, even though he spent more time doing business in other languages.

Gently, he picked up one of the pieces of dark bread topped with caviar.

"I never knew you liked caviar," he remarked.

"It's my favorite food," Yassen replied.

Alex stilled. There was so much he didn't know about Yassen, even after having had a look at his files. Dinner was delicious. Yassen was an amazing cook. Alex looked at him when they'd finished their Morozhenoe - ice cream with fruits and nuits, no sweets as toppings - and decided it was probably safe to ask.

"Thank you for dinner, but what did I do to deserve a welcome like that?"

It had been a long day. He'd started early to finish as much work as he could, then the flight which had been comfortable but crossing borders was always associated with danger given how many people wanted Alex's head on a stick. To be welcomed home like this...Alex knew he had no business claiming the dacha as his home. But he considered it as such, and that alone said more than enough.

"It's my birthday," Yassen replied, cutting through Alex's thoughts immediately.

"Your birthday?"

Alex had always wondered but never dared to ask - with how many identities Yassen had, Alex had thought maybe it truly didn't matter. He had never seen Yassen as the person who celebrated his own birthday, but after all the generous gifts he had given Alex, all Alex wanted to do was give something back. And here he was, with empty hands and nothing to give.

"Yes."

The corners of Yassen's mouth were raised just the slightest bit, but on anyone else it would have been a wide smile. Alex smiled back.

"Happy Birthday, Yassen."

Yassen accepted with a nod.

"I figured we could have a nice meal to mark the occasion."

No big party then, Alex thought, as expected. Still, it was more than Yassen had done during the last years. It was the twenty-second of June, and Alex knew he would never forget the date. Another thing he had never known, which served to remind him of why he had come in the first place.

When they moved to sit down in the living room, Alex complimented the painting to Yassen. Yassen smiled in response.

“It was a gift.”

“From whom?” Alex’s curiosity always got the better of him, but Yassen merely replied, “A friend,” before making his way into the living room.

Yassen poured them both a generous helping of vodka. Which, Alex guessed, was just a regular portion for Russians.

"What a lucky coincidence I came here on your birthday," he started.

Yassen saw right through him.

"It is. But I'm sure you had a reason to come?"

For a moment, Alex wished he hadn't. That him visiting Yassen was no indication of wanting or needing anything from him and was simply because he wanted to see him. Maybe one day. For now, he forces himself to look Yassen in the eye.

"I read your file."

The words felt raw on his tongue, so much meaning and emotion behind four little words. Yassen only gave a slight nod.

"Alright. I assume you have questions?"

No shock, no surprise, no anger at Alex having read about a past Alex himself would have tried to bury. But Yassen had buried it for years, Alex reminded himself. Maybe he was ready to share.

"I do. But before I ask you anything, I wanted to say thank you. You protected me from so many of the bad sides of this business I never even knew about. I never thanked you properly.”

“You don’t have to. You didn’t ask for any of it.”

Yassen's voice was calm, reasonable. It was true, Alex had never wanted to be a part of this world. But that didn't change the fact that once MI6 had realized his potential, it had been too late for him to leave.

“But you saved me when everyone else was fine with using a child for their dirty work. I needed someone like you. Without you I’d be dead. And that means something to me, Yassen. Thank you for caring and protecting me. Not just from MI6. But from everything SCORPIA would have done to me without your protection.”

Because that had been the inevitable conclusion Alex had to reach once he thought a little longer about Yassen's past. Without an influential benefactor, without a mentor, Alex wouldn't be where he was right now. Realistically, he would probably be dead. Died on one of MI6's missions, and an acceptable casualty at that. Unlike SCORPIA and Yassen, who had poured millions into his education, MI6 had been given a free weapon. The only expenses they would have to pay had he died would have been opportunity costs.

This time, Yassen accepted his gratitude. With the shared knowledge between them of what Yassen had gone through in the absence of someone who looked out for him, it was hard to deny the truth of Alex's words.

"When I discovered MI6 had kept using you, it left me no other choice. I knew you could thrive within SCORPIA, and I was right. There are ways to put someone as young as you were to work that I knew MI6 wouldn't hesitate to use if it furthered their interests. I never wanted you to have to claw your way out of the underbelly of this business."

 _Not like you had to,_ Alex thinks, but doesn't say anything. Yassen had had an incredible career even though he came from nothing. He had been the best assassin in the business, and when everybody thought Yassen Gregorovich couldn’t possibly become more dangerous, he had taken over SCORPIA. Alex was feared and for good reasons, but he'd been given an easy start. Under Yassen's wing, protected and with the best training anyone could hope for. As a teenager, he hadn't appreciated any of that for obvious reasons. Now, looking back, he couldn't help but feel a strong, warm wave of gratitude that Yassen had taken care of him like he did.

"I get it now. The message you wanted to send when you staged the assassination at the Bucephalus. There's a lot I don't know, about what happens in spheres I never had to learn about."

Yassen gives a nod. "Good."

Alex wondered if, in another life, Yassen would have made a good teacher. Somehow, he could see it. Or a really mean drill instructor.

"The knowledge you lack has been a calculation on my side. When you were younger, it was hard enough for you to find your place in this world. I've introduced you to the world of sanitized assassinations and witnessing the fallout of that was bad enough for a fifteen-year-old. Teaching you how to perform accurate SWOT-analysis on drug supply chains, how to calculate how much a Malagosto education can cost when taking into account the inevitable drop-out of unsucessful students...it wasn't merciful. But it was effective. To confront you with things such as human trafficking and seduction work seemed unnecessary. It's knowledge I didn't want you to have a as a fifteen-year-old. By now, you have acquired much of it organically. But there's some things you still lack."

Alex couldn't help but half-smile at Yassen. The old mixture of lesson, admonishment, criticism and fondness reminded him of their earlier times together. Alex remembered his first mission in Singapore very well. Almost doomed to fail, until Yassen had been sent as the ultimate problem solver. It had been a successful mission after all. And what Alex had never forgotten was the reassurance Yassen had given him that he'd rather kill him than hand him over to Dr. Three for interrogation. The same kind of mercy that would have killed him before handing him to Dr. Three had made Yassen teach him what he had to know to survive, but not enough to break him. It was a cold, efficient sort of mercy, but it was the only kind Yassen could afford. Alex knew that now. Knew also that it was much more than Yassen himself had ever gotten from Hunter.

There were some things Alex would always lack, by virtue of never having had the same experience as a contract killer that Yassen had, or the same kind of training in other areas. But he wasn't angry about that. Being more of an executive than a field agent suited him. He'd never liked killing, but he'd gotten used to it. Giving the order was so much easier than pulling the trigger. Yassen and him were the only two people in the world who had ever led SCORPIA on their own, and while they were similar in many ways, they also had vastly different goals and leadership styles. Alex had ambitious plans for SCORPIA, things he wanted to achieve that Yassen had never thought of. But he would never forget that he was able to pursue these plans because Yassen had cut the fat from SCORPIA and handed him a lean, efficient organization that could be shaped to his will.

"I know there's a lot still to learn. But for everything you have taught me, I am grateful. And I want you to know that everything you did...as Cossack, as Nathaniel, it doesn't change how I see you."

The words were rushed and a little awkward. Alex wasn't sure if they made his meaning clear, either. But by differentiating Cossack and Nathaniel, Alex had given away what had upset him most. All of Yassen’s missions had been given to Cossack, his official code name as a Malagosto graduate and elite SCORPIA operative. But for most of his missions involving seduction work, he had used the identity of Nathaniel Whitford, a young British man. Nathaniel, unlike Cossack, had made use of his blue eyes and blonde hair and dancer’s body. He had been gorgeous, and his company eye-wateringly expensive. Alex knew that even as Nathaniel – maybe especially as Nathaniel – Yassen had been deadly. But that didn’t change the fact that Yassen hadn’t chosen any of this for himself.

“I didn’t think it would,” Yassen replied, and to everyone but Alex it would have sounded perfectly neutral. But Alex could hear the undertone of gratitude. Yassen had bend himself to become Nathaniel, to play at something he truly wasn’t. Something that many would have considered shameful. Alex couldn’t ever look down on Yassen for anything he’d done, not when he himself had given up almost all his morals and ideas just to survive. They understood each other. They were both able to adapt to almost anything. But some things were harder to adapt to than others. Some things were easier to forget and make peace with than others.

“I am sorry all those things happened to you.”

Alex had never spent too much time thinking about how Yassen’s early adulthood couldn’t have been easy, either. Between the murder of his parents, living on the streets in Moscow, Sharkovsky and SCORPIA, Alex thought it would be fair to say that Yassen had gone through even more shit than he himself. And that said something.

“It’s not your fault. You don’t need to apologize for it.”

Yassen’s eyes were as gentle as they would ever be, and his tone a little softer than usual. Alex knew to step carefully. There weren’t many who were allowed even this close to him, and even with a good two feet of distance between them on the couch, this felt more intimate than even their few physical encounters before.

“I know. But I care. You protected me from so much, all because you felt you owed John, when he never did the same for you.”

 _While he signed you up for those lessons_ , Alex didn’t say. There were still lines he wouldn’t cross, even now. Yassen’s eyes hardened a little.

“John did for me what he could. I owe him my life. He could have killed me after I failed my first assignment. Instead, he taught me everything he knew. Without him I wouldn’t be here.”

Alex swallowed. There was enough they should talk about without bringing his father into this. However, Alex couldn’t help but feel like Yassen’s hero-worship of John was undeserved. If John had wanted to save Yassen, he could have done so much more. But he hadn’t really cared, had only cared about his family, and left Yassen behind at SCORPIA.

“I don’t think he deserves the appreciation you give him.”

Yassen’s eyes were sharp all of a sudden, zeroing in on Alex, and in a desperate attempt to distract him Alex took a large gulp of vodka. It burned its way down his throat, but Yassen was still looking at him.

“I’m not stupid, Alex. I know that John Rider wasn’t perfect. But I wasn’t a child at that point. I was a trained assassin. Saving me wasn’t an option anymore.”

There was a slight reprimand in his voice, and Alex would have liked to disagree. That despite it all, John could have tried. But then Yassen would counter that he himself had only saved Alex’s life, and not gotten him out of the world of SCORPIA and MI6 either. The underlying point, which was that Yassen deserved better, was something Alex wasn’t sure Yassen would ever accept. He had adapted to his life and all its challenges, and there was little point in considering what could have been. There was only pain behind the door of how easy his life may have turned out, had things been different. For both of them.

And apart from that, Alex wasn’t so sure why he was the one arguing against his father’s character. Yes, MI6 had lied. Ian had lied. He had been aware of the kind of person John had been for a while. That in itself had been a disappointment, but one he could stomach. The idea, however, that Yassen liked John, who had never really cared for him, more than he liked Alex…was unacceptable.

“Okay,” Alex acquiesced. He’d learned to pick his battles. Especially with Yassen. Besides, something else had been worrying him ever since he found out. If for Yassen, sex was a means to an end, a weapon to use, then why had he ever slept with Alex? Right after, Alex had made sure to ask if Yassen had enjoyed it and wanted it. Yassen had told him that yes, he had. But he needed to be sure. Needed to know Yassen hadn’t just indulged him.

“When we slept with each other, when I was nineteen, after the assassination attempt. Did you really want that? Or did you do it to calm me down?”

Alex was glad he was able to read Yassen as well as he did. During their whole talk so far, Yassen had been holding his glass of vodka, and barely shown any emotion. Only by knowing him for more than a decade had Alex been able to pick up on the fact that yes, this was an intense conversation for both of them. But now, Yassen tensed up in a way that was almost too visible.

“No, Alex, I didn’t sleep with you to calm you down. I did it because I wanted to, and you wanted it as well. I haven’t made it a habit of fucking people to get what I want.”

Too late Alex realized he had insulted Yassen.

“Yassen, I didn’t mean it like that – I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just that…there’s a certain pattern to our relationship.”

Yassen merely raised an eyebrow, but he was demanding an explanation just as fiercely as others would have while screaming.

“We had sex after that assassination attempt. A few years later, after I was captured, we…”

Yassen’s eyebrow was climbing ever higher and Alex couldn’t help but blush. He was in his mid-twenties, he had no business blushing like a virgin. But Yassen’s absolute calm made him feel young and inexperienced. Which, to be fair, was probably true in comparison but still - Alex knew he could hold his own. He just had to prove it to Yassen.

“Well, you allow me close whenever you’re afraid to lose me.”

The words were hanging in the air between them, heavy like storm clouds. Alex didn’t know what he’d expected. Yassen merely took another sip from his glass.

“I’ve allowed you closer than I have anyone else in years,” he pointed out, voice so practical and reasonable it made anger well up inside Alex. He took a deep breath, but Yassen was looking away into the forest, the trees a deep green now.

“I was worried when they captured you, Alex. Marcus thought you were dead.”

Alex had nothing he could hold against that. He remembered it all too clearly, how his careful security plan had failed, Marcus's voice in his ear screaming instructions Alex hadn't been able to follow.

“And you had every right to be worried. But I want to know if this thing between us – if it’s real even when I didn’t just escape death.”

His words could have been more carefully chosen, his tone of voice less exasperated. But Alex had never done this before, and Yassen’s calm, seemingly unruffled expression made him feel like he may have just stepped off the tightrope they’d been balancing on.

Yassen finished his vodka. His eyes never left Alex’s. Alex swallowed and licked his lips, Yassen’s eyes following the movement with an intense focus that made Alex feel hot all over. Then Yassen spoke.

“I need another drink.”

He got up to get his drink, and this time it was Alex who followed every smooth, elegant movement with his eyes. This was fine. He had never expected it to be easy. But when Yassen would come back, he would still be here. And he would get his answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, what a mean cliffhanger. You can complain in the comments.  
> But hey: Next time we get another juicy flashback in case you were wondering what Alex was trying to get at... ;)


	9. Night Vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, still battling the tendonitis, but I'm hoping it gets better soon.
> 
> First of all - I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Nanimok, as a late birthday present! May the next year bring you joy, happiness and success! I hope you enjoy it, and I'm glad I got to meet you through this fandom :)
> 
> Second of all, a big thank you to Ahuuda's fabulously filthy fingers ;)))
> 
> And now, a little bit of a reminder where we are since it's been a hot minute:  
> Alex & Yassen were talking about their relationship through the years and how Yassen always seems to let Alex close to him when he's afraid to lose him or came close to losing him. Alex mentioned that time he got captured and that things happened after (I wonder what kind of things)...and that's where we pick up!

Alex was still sitting where Yassen had left him, waiting for the man to return. Getting a drink couldn't take that long. They had much to talk about, and although Alex wondered for one hysteric moment whether Yassen's aversion to talking about their relationship and his feelings had led him to spontaneously flee from his own home, he knew that wasn't the case.

Yassen could be relied upon to be reasonable. They were having a reasonable, adult discussion. All Alex wanted was clarity, and although Yassen did not owe him much, he at least owed Alex an honest statement about what was going on between them.

But when time passed, and Yassen failed to show up again, Alex got up and started to pace nervously around the room. He couldn't help the thoughts that Yassen wouldn't come back, no matter how unrealistic. Yassen didn't leave him behind. Even when he'd been nothing but a useless teenager, Yassen had taken him under his wing, had kept him safe. Yassen wasn't always gentle, but he was reliable, and strong, and loyal. Alex was worried about how things would go, that much was true. But this wasn't the first time he had wondered whether Yassen would come for him, whether Yassen could be relied upon. So far, he had never been disappointed. Whether it was lessons or physical safety, Yassen had always set things right. Even when the stakes had been much higher.

Alex remembered waking up disoriented, his head pounding, his hands and feet tied to a remarkably sturdy chair that had to be attached to the floor, because no matter how much he struggled, it didn't move. When he opened his eyes, the room around him was dark. No one was there - or no one he could see, at least. Slowly, he realized his panicked jerking against his restraints had been stupid. They were surely watching him. Now they knew he was awake. Slowly, bit by bit, his memories came back.

He’d made the mistake of assuming he was safe, and it had ended with a member of Sagitta dead and him waking up...wherever this was. His first instinct was to be glad to be alive. Luck runs out, but his was holding for now.  
  
Then he remembered Aranda, his eyes dead and sightless, paying the price for trying to get Alex to safety. He had started to run, but they had gotten to him, too. A tranquilizer dart in his back had made him slow down and crumble. If there was no body, Yassen would start searching. All Alex had to do was stay alive until Yassen found him. Maybe, if his situation became better, he could try to escape. His head was still fuzzy, and he felt tired but was otherwise unharmed. They had gagged him with thick tape over his mouth, and while he was sure he could probably soak it with saliva and start chewing on it so it would loosen, he didn’t think they’d make him wait that long.  
  
Alex stayed still, waited for his head to clear. They probably had at least one night vision camera trained on him. It had probably been hours since he was taken. By now, Yassen would know. And Alex knew that Yassen wouldn't leave him behind here, in the middle of nowhere, trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey, ready for the taking.

As he had assumed, he didn't have to wait long. When the bright light flickered on, Alex hissed in pain and shut his eyes. His headache started to pulse stronger, even as his eyes got used to the brightness. When he opened them again - stupid to close them with an enemy nearby, so he probably was still partially under the influence of whatever they'd used to knock him out - he was surprised that he knew the face of the man approaching him.

It was one of the leaders of Glaive, SCORPIA's biggest competitor. There were two guards with him, one of them approached to roughly rip the tape off Alex's mouth.

"Mr. Foster. What a surprise."

Alex's tone was calm, almost bordering on polite. His composure didn't seem to unsettle the man.

"Mr. Rider. I wish I could say this was merely a business meeting."

Alex huffed a laugh.

"Please. No one's tried to start a business meeting with me like this in a long while. You have to know Mr. Gregorovich won't let this slide."

Foster gave him a disgustingly slimy smile.

"We blew up the whole building after we captured you. They won't even be able to identify the teeth of your guard - or the young body we left there instead of you. Gregorovich may mourn you, but he won't try to save you."

Alex refused to believe that. Yassen would come - or he would manage to free himself. Even if the knots around his hands and feet were expertly tied and he had no idea how far from civilization he might be. They were trying to scare him, and Alex recognized the tactic. For now, he stayed calm.

"What do you want from me?"

"We have questions. You'll answer them...one way or the other."

"To what end?" The threat of torture was exactly what Alex had expected and left him mostly cold.

"SCORPIA has refused lucrative business in recent years. We would like to expand our area of expertise. In order to do that, a few potential clients have asked us to demonstrate our capabilities. Incapacitating the second in command is a good first step, but through you, we will get to Gregorovich."

Things were falling into place in Alex's mind. Rich people with their crazy, convoluted plots were still searching for organizations to do their dirty work. With SCORPIA stepping back, Glaive had offered their services. But the clients wanted proof they could do what SCORPIA did. And how better to prove that than through a hostile takeover?

"All this to be allowed to work for billionaire maniacs? Remember what happened after Cray?"

Foster shrugged. "I care little about the fallout of the jobs, as long as they pay well."

Alex wasn't, in any way, an upstanding citizen or good man. But even from a purely business perspective, these kinds of missions made no sense. Glaive hadn't done the maths. That was part of the reason they would always stay the number two behind SCORPIA.

"This can be easy, or it can be hard. The choice is yours, Alex. You've been trained at Malagosto, I know you'll try to withstand the torture. You'll be successful for a while. But eventually, you'll tell us whatever we need to know to make it stop. It doesn't have to get to that point. We can make it a lot more pleasant for you."

Alex laughed.

"Alright, then how about a proper bed, a nice TV, three meals a day and access to a gym?"

Foster's reply was a thin smile.

"Alright. Have it your way."

Alex had to suppress the childish urge to stick out his tongue. He'd been tortured by Dr. Three, the foremost torture expert in the world. He could deal with whatever they decided to dish out.

At first, they left him alone. No food, no water, tied to his chair, the aggressive white light always on. The first few hours, Alex didn't complain. He checked his bindings. He trashed and moved until his wrists were bloody, and then he tried to get the chair to fall over, but it was nailed to the floor. Nothing to be done. They'd effectively stripped him of his weapons. The room was empty, with white-tiled floor and walls, no windows, only one door. Two cameras in opposite corners. Alex pulled every trick Yassen had ever taught him, but this room was impossible to escape from the inside.

Then, he started talking to the camera mounted in the right corner of the room that a bucket would be nice. They did not bring him a bucket. They watched as he pissed himself, unable to hold it any longer. Alex had been through worse things in his life. And yet, he realized then and there, sitting in his own urine, that this wasn’t a lesson – that there were no boundaries.

With an empty bladder, he started to feel tired. But as soon as he tried to close his eyes to sleep, water just above the freezing point started raining down on him. Alex gasped in shock but didn't react otherwise. It poured down for about five minutes before it stopped. Afterwards, Alex was shaking from how cold he was.

The next days were just the same. They let him sit in his own dirt, without food or water, and whenever he tried to sleep, the water would come down. By the second day, Alex tilted up his head to drink some of it. It tasted rank, but he didn't care.

On day three, someone walked in and offered him a bucket and a meal in exchange for information about SCORPIA.

"Fuck off," Alex said, but it wasn't half as aggressive as he wanted it to be. He was very, very tired. They gave it another three days before they sent someone else. Alex's stomach felt like it had been clawed open by starving carnivores, and his head felt heavy and light at the same time. He was so tired now they had to add loud music to the water to keep him awake. Occasionally, he dozed off for milliseconds before they turned it on. Alex wished he could live in those milliseconds. His body was hurting in a dozen different places, and he was disgusted by himself. They still hadn’t allowed him to clean himself or change out of his soiled clothing.

He knew sleep deprivation was probably the most dangerous of his current problems. Mostly because his brain had stopped working properly. He was very afraid now, shivering and cold and he wanted Yassen to come save him. He couldn't escape. There was nothing here. His hands were shaking, his feet were numb, and he was almost hysteric. On day six, someone offered him an hour of sleep in exchange for information. Alex bit his lip until it bled and shook his head.

On day eight, Alex passed out. He came to in a bed, IV in his arm, machines beeping by his side. When he tried to move, someone was immediately there. A needle was pushed into his thigh, and he was out like a light.

The next time he woke, he was back on his chair. They had put him in different clothing, and they had allowed him to sleep. He was finally clean once again. Alex was almost grateful, an emotion he squashed immediately. He had no idea what day it was. And apart from the hunger growling in his stomach, fear started to sneak its way into his heart. It was at least day nine. Had they fooled Yassen? Was anyone looking for him? Was he going to die here? And was he going to die only after having sold out SCORPIA, and more importantly Yassen? What about his other friends - Jack and Tom and Sagitta, who had already lost one of theirs because of him?

Alex wanted to scream, he wanted to rage against his bounds, but he'd done that already. He had to wait. He had to hold out. He had to keep faith. But tears were flowing freely down his face now, and his begging was heartfelt.

The true torture started the next day. First, they waterboarded him. Despite his re-conditioning, it still made Alex scream and yell and beg for mercy. When they asked him questions, he fell back into a mantra that had served him well once before: "I don't know what you're talking about."

It was obviously a lie. But that didn’t matter. Last time, it had worked. His sleep-deprived, pained mind thought that maybe, it would work again.

Waterboarding worked well on him. It had him screaming for mercy, but the man torturing him was deaf to his pleas. Sometimes, mercy was offered, a bed or a proper meal or a day without pain, but Alex was never ready to pay the price. He'd die before he was going to sell out Yassen.

Alex was almost glad they barely let him sleep, because he knew his nightmares about drowning would come back with full force.

But unlike Dr. Three, Glaive had no interest in keeping him in working order. They just wanted his intel. If they would have to physically break him for that, they would. It was that easy.

When white torture failed, they took his fingernails. Carefully, one by one after driving nails beneath them. Alex wanted to cradle his mutilated fingers close and examine the damage, hold them gently, close to his body, as if that could protect them. But his hands were tied to the chair, even as blood slowly dripped from his fingertips. Alex hated them. But most of all, he feared that no one would ever come. That they would take him apart inch by inch, and nothing would be left. They flayed the soles of his feet. Had he wanted to escape, he would have been barely able to walk.

They had a new idea every day. Alex dreaded opening his eyes because it would mean pain, and he dreaded closing them because it meant ice-cold water and nightmares.

Alex had thought he knew what torture was, but now he realized with no interest in him as an asset, even a less skilled adept in the art of pain could break him. It wasn't happening yet, but it would eventually. That thought was chipping away at him, made him consider another way out that wasn't escape. But just like he had no tool to help him escape, he had nothing to help him end his life.

Alex was powerless. He was weak, starving and hurting. He had lost track of time and his short, stolen moments of sleep were haunted by Aranda's dead eyes, Marcus' worried voice, Jack’s tears and Yassen's face, solemn and sad. Alex's body was a minefield of pain, and he was ready for it to be over. He used to think RTI was the worst that could happen to him, but he had been fourteen and naïve. Now, with agony breathing inside his chest like a living thing, hope and resistance were slowly leaving his dying body.

Alex didn't react much to the commotion outside at first. He had no idea what day it was. His hands hurt, his arms felt numb from where they were tied to his chair, and his head was almost always fuzzy since he'd been brought here. The fact he was barely allowed to sleep made it hard to grasp any clear thought. When the sounds of shooting and screaming came closer, Alex forced himself to blink open his eyes.

Maybe this was Yassen coming for him.

He was thinking about being saved, and that wave of hope flooding over him made him feel more awake than he had been in weeks. It invigorated him, enabled him to push past the pain of his body and the slowness of his mind to actually focus on the noises. No voices he recognized yet. And it was unlikely Yassen would be with them, anyway. He wouldn't come himself, he would send people. Which was the sensible thing to do, Alex reminded himself. Him wanting to be held by Yassen and told everything was going to be fine was not the priority. SCORPIA's continued functioning mattered most. Which required Yassen at the helm and him by Yassen's side.

As the voices grew louder, Alex was almost sure he could hear Marcus. That would be good, he thought. Marcus knew him. Marcus he could rely on.

There were a few minutes of silence, and then the door was thrown open. Alex couldn't help but smile at the people pouring into the room, the silver scorpion on the chest of their gear telling him all he needed to know. They were here for him. He had made it through. He was lightheaded with relief. When two of them approached him, one kneeling down to look him over, Alex furrowed his brow.

"Get me out of here, quick."

"Boss, you're not well."

It was Mace's voice. Alex grinned at him, wide and entirely too happy. They had come for him. They were here for him. Yassen had not abandoned him. He wanted to laugh and scream and pull at his hair until it hurt. But he didn’t do any of that.

"No shit, Sherlock. Torture will do that,” he said instead, his voice cracked and raw from screaming.

Mace was already carefully cutting through the rope holding him, while the other figure gave orders. It was Marcus's voice. Alex was very relieved.

"Marcus, he's going to need a proper check-up once we're on the plane. For now, he should be fine to transport."

Alex blinked and looked back down to Mace. Sleep deprivation had really done a number on him. He hadn't even felt his restraints being loosened. Now, Mace was softly massaging his hands to get the blood flowing again. The prickle of pins and needles was unpleasant, but reassuring. Nails could grow back. Everything they had done to him was temporary. He had been trained for this and he had survived and that was all that mattered. Or so Alex told himself.

"Can you walk?"

Alex tried to get up, Mace supporting him, but he wasn't sure his legs would carry him, and the soles of his feet were almost raw flesh. He shook his head.

"I don't think so."

Marcus called someone over, and both him and Mace wrapped one of Alex's arms around their shoulders. Slowly, they made their way back. Alex was so tired, and now that he had to move, it became especially pressing. The pain shooting through his legs whenever his feet touched the floor helped him to stay awake. Sometimes, he did fall against one of the men carrying him, but he was determined not to be more of a nuisance than he had to. Alex didn't bother looking around but couldn't help seeing the dead bodies left behind, and how the whole compound was looking sterile and expensive. He probably wasn't the only one kept here. Absentmindedly, he wondered if there might be someone in here they could free to get an advantage out of, but there was no time to search. Besides, he trusted that Yassen had given the necessary orders to make this mission as efficient as possible. Outside of the compound it was pitch-black. After weeks spend in brightly illuminated rooms, it felt almost eery to Alex. Then he realized that it was simply night time. He must have lost his sense of time. There were the noises of a rain forest. They must have hidden him in the middle of nowhere.

There was a helicopter waiting, and when Mace tried to lift him into it, someone else needed to reach for Alex and pull him up. Once inside, Alex allowed Marcus and Mace to move him around. Not that he could have stopped them, but he appreciated it that the two men of the group who knew him were the ones manhandling him. Later, he was sure Shale and Jarek were there too, but he didn't know how he knew. Probably their voices. When they took to the air, Alex started shaking with nausea. He hadn't had a good meal in a while. Everything hurt. He was so fucking tired. Mace seemed to have realized he wasn't doing well.

"Alex, I'll give you something against the pain, okay?"

Alex found himself nodding. The little pinprick of the needle when it went into his arm barely hurt at all. Just a few minutes later, Alex was leaning against Mace, his body totally relaxed. He smiled a little.

"Where are we going?"

Mace smiled back.

"We're going to board a jet which will bring us right back to Abu Dhabi. We've got health care professionals on the jet and you'll be admitted to a proper hospital once we've arrived."

Alex yawned.

"Okay. Where is Yassen?"

"Mr. Gregorovich is waiting for you on the jet."

That was good news. Alex wanted to see Yassen and make sure he wasn't angry at him. After all, he hadn't done especially well, getting captured and all.

Later, Alex would curse the potent pain medication, but for now, he was simply happy the pain was gone. People helped him out of the chopper when they landed, and then he was put on a stretcher. Alex didn't like the fact that he needed it, but it felt better like this. They rolled him on board of the jet, and as soon as Alex caught sight of Yassen, his whole face lit up.

"Yassen! You came for me!"

Yassen approached him, a slight smile on his lips.

"Of course, Alex. You are my second in command. I wasn't about to leave you behind."

Alex reached for Yassen's hand and was very happy when it was given. Two medics were checking him out, but he was focused on Yassen's hand and his slight smile. He was beautiful, his Yassen.

"They were assholes, you know. They pulled out my finger nails!" He wriggled them a little. "See?"

They didn't hurt right now, Mace must have given him the good stuff. Yassen's smile disappeared, and that made Alex sad.

"I see, Alex," he replied, calm and reasonable. When one of the medics looking him over started to cut him out of the thin clothes he was wearing, Alex flinched away. Yassen made a soothing noise.

"It's alright, Alex. You're safe now. We're just going to make sure you're fine, that you get into some clean, warm clothes and then you can sleep."

Alex gave another, wide yawn.

"Are you gonna stay here?"

He trusted Yassen. He knew that with Yassen, he was safe.

"I'm on the plane, Alex. I'm not leaving. But I do have some work to do, so I can't hold your hand the whole time."

Alex didn't like that one bit. His facial expression must have given him away.

"But there is someone here who will stay with you."

Yassen gestured towards someone out of Alex's field of vision, and whoever it was came over immediately. Once he came closer, Alex could recognize Ruben. He was handsome, as always. But compared to Yassen right next to him, he wasn't that interesting. Yassen looked a lot better. His cold blue eyes and sharp cheek bones, his perfect, chiseled lips. Alex almost felt caught out in his staring when Yassen started speaking again.

"I'm sure Anhur won't mind keeping you company while the medics do their work."

Alex absentmindedly realized he was naked right now. There were a lot of cuts and bruises all over his body. Neither Yassen nor Anhur seemed to mind, and the medics were completely indifferent to his nudity, so he just let it pass.

"Of course, Mr. Gregorovich," Anhur replied obediently.

Alex looked from Yassen to Ruben and made a face.

"But I want you to stay with me, Yassen."

It was the truth. Alex was high out of his mind with painkillers and he hadn't thought about what he was saying at all. Yassen's face stayed carefully neutral. Ruben looked a little hurt.

"Stay with me, Yassen?"  
The medics were very pointedly not looking at either of them. Yassen looked at Ruben as if he had personally failed him. Ruben, Alex thought, close to hysterical laughter, looked a bit like a kicked puppy.

"I can stay for a bit longer," Yassen eventually gave in.

Alex gave him his brightest smile and held out his hand once more. Yassen took it, careful of his mutilated nails. Alex didn't even register Ruben leaving.

Yassen coaxed Alex to stay awake and answer the medic’s questions, and Alex obeyed on instinct. He was tired, and all he wanted was to sleep. Occasionally, someone would offer him water to sip and Alex would accept gladly. There was no food yet, but he wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep anything down anyway. The only thing important was Yassen’s hand. Whenever Yassen tried to leave, Alex tightened his grip.

The first time, Yassen had looked at him, but it hadn’t been as strict as Alex was used to.

“Stay,” Alex said, too exhausted to beg properly, but he would have if he could have.

Yassen must have seen that in his face because he did stay. He had someone bring him his laptop, which Yassen positioned on his knees and worked on with one hand while his other held Alex’s.

It was a fair compromise in Alex’s mind, so he didn’t complain. He watched Yassen work, the way his brow furrowed when he found something he didn’t like, and once he licked his lips after taking a sip of water.

“You’ve got really beautiful lips, Yassen,” Alex said.

He didn’t realize how the medics froze for a moment, or how their eyes flickered to Yassen. Yassen ignored them, and they picked their work up quickly enough.

“He’s on strong painkillers,” one of them murmured, but Yassen only shrugged.

“Thank you, Alex,” he responded, as if Alex had only praised him for a good shot.

Alex was not satisfied with that. Alex thought that Yassen should know how good he looked.

“And your eyes are a really pretty blue.”

Now, the corner of Yassen’s mouth moves a little, and even high on painkillers Alex could still speak Yassen’s body language fluently – everyone else would have laughed. Alex liked that he’d been successful in complimenting Yassen and improving his mood. It mattered a lot, somehow.

“You’re in fantastic shape for a man your age,” Alex continued, a bit of tease in his words. The medics didn’t stop their work this time, very determinedly acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Yassen merely raised an eyebrow.

“For a man my age?”

Alex wanted to lift his left arm for a see-sawing motion when he realized they had stuck an IV into it, and for a moment, he felt panic rising up in his chest. He wanted to pull it out with his other hand, but Yassen was still holding that, and squeezing softly. Somewhere to his other side, a monitor was beginning to beep more quickly. The noise startled Alex, but he focused on Yassen when he began to speak.

“What did you want to say? About men my age?”

Alex couldn’t help the grin spreading over his face. He took a deep breath and the beeping calmed down. Turning back to Yassen, Alex admitted, “You have a pretty nice body for a man of any age.”

Yassen huffed a laugh.

“Thank you, Alex. I’m sure you won’t be embarrassed by any of this later.”

Alex stared at him in disbelief.

“Why would I? It’s the truth!”

He turned toward a medic.

“Isn’t it?”

The poor man froze. Yassen’s glacierlike gaze came to rest heavily on him. Alex giggled when the guy started to stutter and hesitate.

“Well, sir, I’d never dare comment on your age or your body I just- of course I’d never say…”

Yassen had half a mind to let the poor guy go on, but waved him off instead.

“Do your job.”

The guy obeyed gladly. Alex yawned.

“Are there any more questions you need to ask him now?”

The medic, still blushing red, shook his head.

“Go to sleep, Alex,” Yassen continued, squeezing his hand. “You earned it.”

Alex was out like a light. The last thing he felt before darkness took him was the calming, reassuring warmth of Yassen’s hand holding his.

When Alex awoke, his fingers and feet were pulsing faintly, but nothing hurt. Blinking his eyes open, feeling the soft bed he was resting on, warm and clean and comfortable, he allowed himself the realization that it had all been real, and he truly had been saved. He yawned, looked around and realized he was in the hospital at Malagosto, in a private room. He had been here before, recovering from the first time he’d been tortured. Satisfied with his observations for now, Alex closed his eyes and promptly fell back asleep.

The next time he woke up, it was long enough for a nurse to realize and call Dr. Javadi. She talked to Alex for a bit, told him what day it was and that he’d been gone for weeks and that Mr. Gregorovich would want to see him. Alex nodded.

“I’m ready to talk to him,” he said.

Alex fell asleep while waiting for Yassen. When he woke back up, Yassen was sitting patiently in a chair by his bed, laptop on his knees. Alex felt guilty for that. Before he could say anything, Yassen’s eyes moved towards him, having sensed, in some weird way that only Yassen could, that Alex must have woken up. Probably heard the change in his breathing or something equally obscure.

"How are you?"

Alex thought about it for a moment. He didn't feel any pain. He didn't feel hungry either. He had finally been allowed to sleep.

"Pretty good," he replied. "How long have I been out?"

"Almost three days. You were sleep-deprived and Javadi advised to let you sleep, you were fed intravenously."

Alex nodded.

"They weren't generous with food. I lost track of time, I thought you may not come..."

The medication he was on kept him calm, but Alex could feel panic brewing inside him. Yassen looked at him with the steadfast determination that had seen them through the coup to take over SCORPIA, the kind of gaze reliable enough to build a castle on.

"I'd never leave you behind, Alex. I needed some time to figure out where you were, and how best to extract you, but I never bought their ruse of you being dead. They held you in the middle of the Brazilian rainforest, which made finding you tricky, and I wish I’d been quicker…but I’d never leave you behind."

Alex smiled.

"Thank you. How long was I there?”

“Twenty-nine days.”

“Thank you,” Alex repeated, quieter now. Almost a month of torture.

The words were too small, but Alex couldn't think of better ones. He truly was thankful. He truly meant it. Without Yassen, he wouldn't be here. Without Yassen, he may have been dead by now. His thoughts were jumbled by the pain meds, but he tried to think rationally. An assassination attempt had been made.

"Do you want me to plan the revenge? Like I did after Johannesburg?"

Yassen shook his head.

"No, you'll need time to recover. I'm handling it. Don't worry about it, Alex."

Somehow, Alex thought he should feel like Yassen was belittling him, but he didn't, not at all. He knew he needed his rest. His eyes were already trying to fall closed again.

"You're gonna get them?", he asked, followed by a yawn.

"Yes, I'll get them. Can you describe the person who tortured you?"

Alex blinked. To his surprise, he couldn't. Not...really. Between bright light and sleep deprivation, a face mask that had been worn at all times...he could only give Yassen the basics.

"Caucasian, in his thirties, short dark hair. I...sorry, but there isn't much more."

Yassen shook his head, cupping Alex's face in a soothing gesture.

"Don't worry. We'll find him despite that."

Alex nodded. "You'll get them?"

He wasn't quite sure if he'd asked the question before.

"I'll get them," Yassen replied, and Alex felt relieved. Yassen's thumb was stroking his cheekbone, and Alex closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

He didn't hear Yassen's whispered, "I'll get them all."

Alex spent his days in bed, his feet still needing to be taken care of, but he appreciated that Javadi allowed him to go to the toilet and showers, even if someone had to assist. That, as an adult and a trained killer and second in command to Yassen, people had managed to wrench even that bit of autonomy from him made Alex shiver, even now.

Yassen was gone, taking care of business. Without Alex as his second, he had issues squeezing in even his meagre four hours of sleep. Alex wanted to get back on his feet as quickly as possible – or at least behind a laptop – so he could help.

A few days after Yassen, Ruben came to visit him. It was a visit Alex had dreaded, remembering well what he’d said while on painkillers. Yassen hadn’t breached the topic and if he didn’t Alex sure as hell wasn’t going to, but Ruben would want to talk about everything sooner or later. Alex had, after all, treated him rather rudely.

“How are you?” Ruben entered the room with a smile and genuine concern. He had volunteered for the mission to free Alex. He evidently cared a lot about him, even now.

“Good,” Alex replied, “Thanks for coming by.”

Ruben nodded.

“Of course. After all, we’re…”

He trailed off, unsure. Yes, Alex thought, what were they? Certainly not boyfriends. They’d never been that, but they’d been exclusive and fond of each other. Now, after what he’d said to Ruben and how he’d clung to Yassen…even that seemed questionable.

“I am grateful you came for me. I was high on painkillers when…when I said what I said.”

Alex couldn’t really bring himself to lie. Yes, he’d been high. But what he said was still true.

Ruben looked surprisingly serene.

“I’ve wondered, sometimes…if me looking so much like him was a coincidence.”

Alex blushed furiously.

“It’s not – Ruben, it was not just because of that. I like you. You’re a capable operative and a good person and a generous lover and you weren’t just a stand-in.”

Here was the lie after all. Ruben seemed to sense it too – he raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Really? Alex, we’re both adults. I can deal with rejection. I didn’t expect this to end in marriage, two point five kids and a white picket fence. But don’t play me for a fool.”

Alex bit his lip. Below Ruben’s calm façade, he could see his anger. His voice was level and even, but Alex knew him better than that.

“It wasn’t just that, Ruben.”

Ruben didn’t even deign that with a reply. The tension between them was palpable. Alex didn’t know what to say. Yes, he had liked Ruben for himself – but he also couldn’t deny that without his similarities with Yassen he’d never approached him.

“You have every right to be angry.”

Ruben’s lip twitched into the imitation of a smile.

“Oh, I am. But you’re in recovery from weeks of torture and it would hardly do to yell in a hospital.”

Somehow, Alex wished Ruben would yell. It would make him feel better about himself. Less like an asshole who had used someone else for his pleasure, while Yassen was always at the back – and sometimes even the front – of his mind while they slept with each other. The absence of Ruben’s fondness and respect for him would have made his own actions a lot more defensible.

“I am sorry, Ruben.” Alex allowed a touch of softness to color his voice.

There was no reaction. Ruben seemed to be re-evaluating Alex, his eyes focused and sharp as if he was running calculations in his mind. Alex suppressed the urge to swallow. He had apologized. He was lying in a bed, still weak and vulnerable. But he was Scorpia’s second in command, and he would not beg for forgiveness.

“I trust that there will be no issues in our future professional lives because of this?”

The softness was gone from his voice, which seemed to pull Ruben out of his considerations.

“Of course not, Mr. Rider. Get well soon.”

Ruben hadn’t called him that when they were alone since their first night together, when Alex asked to be called by his given name. It was as effective as a slap to the face, and a lot more effective than screaming angrily at him.

Alex almost expected Ruben to turn on his heels and leave, but he didn’t. For a moment, Alex was confused. Ruben didn’t say anything, seemed like he was done with this situation, then why didn’t he leave?

The realization dawned on him like a bucket of ice-cold water. Ruben was no longer his friend. Alex hated the painkillers for making his mind this slow.

“Dismissed,” he said, toneless.

“Yes, sir,” Ruben replied, before turning around and leaving.

Alex watched him leave, feeling like he’d lost not only his lover and friend, but also whatever this conversation had been. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It would have been easier if Ruben had screamed. The dull pulsing of his bandaged fingers was easier to focus on than how hot and wet his eyes felt all of a sudden. Alex took another deep breath and blamed the painkillers for his urge to cry.

Days passed, and then weeks. Alex slowly recovered, his flayed feet and nailless fingers being the biggest worries. His sleep deprivation and lost weight was more easily cured, and he had a few broken ribs that would need some time as well. What Alex hated most was that his nightmares of drowning had come back in full force after the waterboarding, just as bad as they’d been years ago after RTI.

Plus, he was a useless second in command like this. Yassen had told him not to worry, that revenge would be taken care of. But with Alex in bed, Yassen had to lead SCORPIA completely on his own, and Alex knew it was a job that took a lot out of one person – he highly doubted anyone but Yassen would be able to do it. But in a few years time, he would have to be able to. And for some reason, he was the only one doubting his abilities.

After a few weeks, Javadi allowed him a laptop in bed. His fingers were tender but that way he could do some administrative tasks for Yassen, compiling intel for him and the like. He missed working out, but his feet needed to heal. Time passed slowly, but Alex clung to the small steps of progress he could make. Walking to the bathroom on his own. Moving from the hospital to a room in Malagosto. He took more and more of his tasks back from Yassen, went over Malagosto’s current schedule and costs, taking dinner with Crux and Jet. He’d always felt at home here, and this was no different.

Alex almost missed the fact his birthday was just around the corner, but Yassen came back a few days before, telling Alex he had a gift for him. When they made their way to the _Fer de Lance_ a day later, Alex remembered his sixteenth birthday and was touched that Yassen took time off for him.

“I’m glad you took the time for this,” he said, and Yassen merely gave him a smile as they made their way on board.

“Being on the sea has always helped you heal.”

Alex couldn’t deny that. And despite the fact that the dark water surrounding them made him swallow, he was determined to get over that quickly enough. He had done it before, after all. Sagitta wasn’t here this time, but Danube was there for protection. They kept mostly to themselves, though.

They spent the day lounging on the deck, talking business, with Yassen updating him on anything he’d missed. Then they moved on to lighter topics, his time at Malagosto and the new recruits, and who Alex thought would make a good operative a few years down the line. They spoke about his recovery and then the _Fer_ herself.

“It’s beautiful,” Alex remarked when the sun started to set, and Yassen agreed.

“I’ve had food prepared. But we can eat after the sunset if you prefer.” He checked his phone, and Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Are you expecting a call?”

“Yes, but it’ll be short. And we still have some time.”

Alex told himself that it still meant a lot Yassen had taken the day off for him. Even if he had to fit in a work call. It was probably more important than a birthday, anyway. And the sunset truly was beautiful, how the red sun seemed to be slowly bleeding into the ocean, the air around them pleasantly warm in a way it had never been in London when Alex’s birthday rolled around.

“Thank you,” Alex said, his eyes still on the horizon.

“Of course, Alex. But this isn’t your present yet.”

Alex looked over at him, a bit surprised but excited. He was wearing the watch Yassen had given him even now. This was his 22nd birthday and Yassen’s gifts had the tendency of getting bigger every year. Once the sun had set, they made their way to dinner.

Downstairs, the crew had laid out their meal, no doubt ordered from an expensive, upper class restaurant in Dubai. They enjoyed themselves, but while they were eating, Yassen’s phone started to buzz. He checked the texts but didn’t make any move to explain what was happening to Alex. It was unusual – they didn’t keep secrets from each other when it came to business. While Alex was enjoying his chocolate mousse for dessert – Yassen of course skipping the sugary treat – the call Yassen had been waiting for came. It was short indeed.

Yassen picked up, listened, said “Good job, is it on tv yet?”, nodded and hung up.

Alex stubbornly finished his mousse before looking up.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“Your present.”

“Why would that be on tv?”

Yassen almost grinned, and Alex’s curiosity was through the roof. They made their way to the central room of the _Fer_ , completely furnished like a living room with a huge flatscreen. Alex sat down on the soft couch, not sure what to expect. Yassen turned it on, not bothering to search for an English news channel since they were both fluent in Arabic.

The anchor was speaking rapidly, trying to fit multiple breaking news into as few sentences as she could manage. Apparently, there had been an explosion in a building in Abu Dhabi, a yacht in the Mediterranean had been blown up, a villa in Southern France had turned into an impressive fireball, and more and more stories seemed to be coming in.

The conclusion was obvious on one level, and completely incomprehensible on another.

“You did this?” Alex sounded incredulous.

Yassen nodded. “Yes. Glaive has been a thorn in my eye for a while. Months before you were captured, Gheorghe Marinescu called me to let me know he was stepping down from their board and introduced me to his successor. I thought of it as a courtesy call between colleagues at first, but he made some remarks that make more sense now. Glaive had been angling for the kind of contracts we no longer take, and with him gone, there was no one on their board cautioning them against such a move. I originally intended to sent a more subtle message, but once they came after you, I decided they were too much of a risk to let exist.”

Alex’s eyes followed the footage on screen, a bombed-out yacht, a building destroyed to its very foundations, the ball of fire destroying a beautiful villa. Fire brigades scrambling to control the flames, paramedics who could only wrap up and document dead bodies because no one was left alive. Alex felt a little hollow. The absence of guilt – of any kind of empathy with the people Yassen had killed – was a new, almost shocking realization. Instead, there was an almost earth-shattering sense of relief. The memory of the pain he’d gone through would never disappear, but knowing that his tormentors had paid the price – that they would never be able to try again – settled something in him. But the scope of this…

“Won’t they come after us? MI6, the CIA? After this?”

Yassen shook his head.

“No. I’ve sent word. These were all targeted strikes, very little civilian casualties. Worth it to take out one of the biggest criminal organizations in the world.”

After all, Glaive had been huge. If they hadn’t been so greedy, they could have stayed the number two. They could have kept making good money. Instead, they’d chosen to cross SCORPIA. To cross Yassen Gregorovich. And his response had been utterly merciless.

“So that’s what you meant when you said you’d take care of it.”

“Yes. It required a clear message. This was not just an attack on you, but on me and SCORPIA as a whole. What we needed was a proportional response.”

Alex wasn’t sure that proportional applied here, as more and more reports kept coming in.

“You targeted all of their outposts.”

“All the higher-ups, headquarters, command centers, weapon storages, training facilities…their board was assassinated yesterday, so they wouldn’t see the carnage and flee.”

Yassen’s gaze on him was heavy, and Alex knew that the death toll of this would be in the thousands. Of course, not every low life associated with Glaive could be found and killed, but their command structure, their capital, their infrastructure was ruined. And Yassen had chosen his birthday as the date, a birthday that was well known since the intelligence agencies had his file. It sent a very clear message to everyone out there: Alex was Yassen’s, under his protection and not to be touched.

“Thank you,” Alex said, stunned, just like he had been when Yassen had visited him that first time after freeing him. Hundreds of people were already dead and many more would die, and Alex felt more guilty for the absence of guilt than for the loss of life. He had signed up for this, he knew that sometimes, measures like this were necessary.

When he had been younger, Yassen had often taken him sailing. Had allowed him to unwind after harsh missions. This was a lot like that. During those retreats from their official SCORPIA work, Yassen had often allowed Alex to come closer than usual, and Alex hoped that this time, Yassen wouldn’t reject him either.

He moved to where Yassen was sitting on the couch, and simply wrapped his arms around him. After a few seconds, Yassen returned the gesture, allowing Alex to bury his face in his neck.

“Happy Birthday,” he whispered, and Alex took a deep, shaky breath.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come. I wasn’t sure I’d survive it , Yassen…I’m not even upset so many people had to die.”

Yassen’s arms tightened around him.

“Alex, I’d never leave you behind. And they don’t deserve your pity.”

They held each other for a while, and Alex’s breathing became slow and even, matching Yassen’s, until their chests were moving in tandem. It felt good to be in Yassen’s arms. It felt right. Alex disliked the moment Yassen pulled back but was relieved when he didn’t let go completely.

Yassen took a long look at him, as if searching for something. A small smile signaled that he must have found it. Alex gave a small smile back, and Yassen nodded, but stayed close. Then he cupped Alex’s face with one hand. Alex’s whole body tensed up with the small gesture, he hadn’t expected the touch, but didn’t move back. Yassen just kept his hand there for a moment, and Alex relaxed, enjoying the contact. He trusted Yassen, and he had missed his touch.

Yassen carefully stroked two fingers over Alex’s unkempt beard.

“You should shave more often,” Yassen observed. His voice was quiet, as if he wanted to avoid disturbing the peace of the moment.

Alex nodded and responded in kind.

“It’s hard right now.”

He held up his still mangled hands, and Yassen nodded. Then he prompted Alex to get up from the couch.

“Come, I’ll shave you.”

Alex had been unhappy that he had to get up, but this reminded him of the first time Yassen had shaved him – it had been on the _Fer,_ too. He had been younger back then, unaware of just how intimate the act had been. He had felt connected to Yassen, safe with Yassen’s hand holding a blade to his throat, but it had been more…innocent. This felt loaded. Especially after the gift Yassen had just presented him with.

They made their way to the bathroom, and Yassen prompted Alex to sit down on a chair he had carried inside solely for Alex’s comfort. Alex almost wanted to object, but he knew he needed to recover still. And he liked Yassen taking care of him.

As with all things important to Yassen, he took his time. He soaked a towel in hot water and placed it over Alex’s face to open up his pores. He soaked his brush, an expensive one with badger hair, in hot water before pouring it out, replacing it with a dollop of shaving cream and then stirred the cream into a lather. Carefully, he removed the towel from the lower half of Alex’s face and started lathering him up. Alex kept quiet. Having Yassen’s single-minded focus on him was something that took his breath away.

Although it felt like a long time to Alex, Yassen was quick and skilled with the blade. It could only have been a few minutes when he told Alex to tilt his head back.

Alex obeyed wordlessly.

Yassen placed the blade just above Alex’s Adam’s apple, using his other hand to pull the skin tight. Alex felt the urge to swallow. Yet somehow, with the deadliest man he knew holding a blade to his throat, he felt perfectly and utterly safe. His heartbeat was slow and calm. His eyes were half-closed. Yassen seemed content with the state Alex was in, something like a smile grazing his face. Alex closed his eyes as Yassen moved the blade up towards his chin in one long stroke.

When Yassen was done, he lathered Alex up again and made a second pass across the grain. Then he washed Alex’s face for him, prompting him to lean forward with one hand in his hair. It reminded Alex faintly of his resistance to interrogation, that it had been Yassen forcing him under water until he felt like he would drown. But this time the water was warm, he was safe, and Yassen was gentle.

Yassen patted aftershave into Alex’s skin, which felt softer than it had been in months. Alex opened his eyes and looked at Yassen in the mirror. There was an unspoken understanding between them, and Alex’s heart was beating slow and steady. His cock was hard and pulsing in the exact same frequency.

Both of them were aware of it, but Yassen would never push the issue. Alex knew that much. If he wanted something from Yassen, he’d have to ask for it. They were still holding each other’s gaze in the mirror, when Yassen’s hand came to rest on Alex’s shoulder. Alex felt like the moment was stretching endlessly, but like a any rubber band, it would eventually snap, and his chance would be lost.

“Please,” he found himself saying, unable to think of anything better. “Touch me.”

Yassen’s facial expression softened a little. There was almost a smile on his lips, and his hand trailed lower over Alex’s chest, leaning over just a bit to reach the buckle of Alex’s belt, unfastening it easily with one hand.

Alex bit his lip at the sound of it, the sensation of Yassen’s warm breath against his ear. His eyes fluttered closed when Yassen wrapped his hand around him. He was no longer nineteen, and this wasn’t his first time. There was no reason to react to a touch as simple as this with a full-body shiver, but Yassen had that effect on him. His grip was perfect, just tight enough, and Alex leaned his head against Yassen, letting him work.

“Look at me,” Yassen demanded, his tone not quite the one he’d used as Cossack to train Alex, but certainly not one that would tolerate disobedience.

Alex opened his eyes instinctively, finding Yassen’s gaze in the mirror.

In the soft lighting of the bathroom, his icy blue eyes seemed warmer. There was an undeniably possessive slant to his mouth, and Alex realized Yassen didn’t bother watching where he was touching him. Instead, he was focused on Alex’s eyes, his mouth, his face.

Yassen wanted to see him enjoy himself. Alex didn’t need to be told that. Alex wasn’t usually quiet in bed, but with Yassen, he somehow wanted to be perfect. If Yassen wanted to see him, to hear him, he wanted to look and sound so good Yassen would never let him go again. Alex felt hot all over, his fingers clenching by his side, so nervous at the idea he might lose this, that Yassen would turn away again once this was over, just like he had last time they’d been so close and it had still fallen apart.

“Relax,” Yassen said, as if he could read his mind.

“I just want-“ Alex sounded so breathless to his own ears, it made him blush scarlet. But Yassen didn’t let him take the easy way out.

“Want what, Alex?”

“Want you to enjoy yourself, too.”

Yassen’s reply is a deep, rough chuckle.

“I am, Alex.”

“But – that one time at the SCORPIA function, when you got me off and then I offered and you didn’t let me-“

Yassen’s hand stopped moving for a moment, but he tightened his grip, and despite the topic of conversation, Alex couldn’t contain his moan. Yassen’s smile was smug and satisfied.

“Don’t worry about it, Alex. Rest assured that I’m taking everything I want from you.”

That phrasing shouldn’t have reassured him, Alex was sure about that – but it did. He held Yassen’s gaze as he started moving his hand once more, allowing the moans and whimpers to fall from his lips without shame. Having that single-minded focus on him was just as arousing as the twist of heat and pressure, the way Yassen’s slim fingers wrapped around his cock as if he’d seen every moment Alex had gotten off, hoping for this to happen. It felt like his world was narrowing down to the hand between his legs and the eyes keeping him pinned in place. Once, Alex allowed his eyes to fall shut again, but Yassen scraped his teeth over his throat and Alex opened them back up with a gasp, almost dazed at seeing the hunger in Yassen’s eyes, how obviously and clearly he desired Alex and enjoyed himself.

_Rest assured that I’m taking everything I want from you._

Alex shivered, tried to thrust into Yassen’s hand, to speed it all up – but Yassen’s other hand came to rest on his chest, pressing him back into the chair.

“I-“

Yassen’s gaze was enough to shut him up. He gave a shaky nod and clamped his hands around the edges of his seat, as if he could hold himself still like that.

“Good boy.”

The praise made Alex feel like he’d been doused with warm water. A needy, high-pitched whine escaped him and Yassen’s only reaction was a smile. There was precome beading on the head of Alex’s cock by then, making everything slippery and just almost on the edge of enough. Alex clenched his hands down even tighter, trying to focus on anything but his need to come, barely able to contain the desperate little movements of his hips.

“Fuck -Yassen, please – please…”

Yassen pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his throat. It was disarmingly gentle.

“I’ve got you, Alex.”

Alex wasn’t sure what caught him more off guard, those words or the sudden increase in pace, but Yassen was right: he had him, took care of him, always, even when he didn’t have to, and Alex choked up and came all over himself. He was still breathing quickly by the time Yassen let go of him. Alex might have protested, but even then Yassen stayed close.

“Let’s take a shower,” he said, and this time, Alex didn’t feel the need to offer Yassen anything, or bad for being the only one to come. This had been plenty mutual, even if it was in an usual way Alex was still learning about. Yassen guided him up, undressed him and helped him shower, and then he allowed Alex to sleep by his side for the night. After everything that had happened, after Ruben…it was good to know that Yassen would always be there for him. That night, the nightmares of drowning stayed away for the first time since he’d been captured.

The sound of ice clinking against glass brought him back to the present, as Yassen entered the room with a deep red drink, a slice of blood orange swimming on top of it. It looked like a lot of work and explained why Yassen had taken so long. They exchanged a knowing glance – it didn’t need to be said that Yassen had deliberately taken his time. Maybe he had needed a few minutes to himself. Alex couldn’t begrudge him that. It meant a lot he was having this conversation at all.

And with those memories in mind, Alex felt reassured that he was not pursuing something impossible. Yassen cared for him, deeply so. Maybe now, in retirement, Yassen could finally allow himself the happiness and companionship he used to deny himself.

“What did you make?”

Yassen looked almost sheepish. Alex felt so fond of him it was bordering on ridiculous.

“A Vodka Martini.”

Alex looked at the elaborate drink in his hands and raised an eyebrow.

“With Apricot Jam and Blood Orange,” Yassen admitted, a slight smile curling his lips, making his sharp features softer and more beautiful. Alex wished his heart wouldn’t clench quite so strongly at the view. He huffed a laugh. Alex never thought he’d ever see Yassen like this – enjoying his life, enjoying the little things.

“Jam doesn’t belong in drinks, Yassen,” he said, but it was more teasing than anything else.

“Debatable,” Yassen replied, calmly taking a sip from his cocktail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I mean it when I say it there's an unpublished scene in fic jail about Alex & Yassen doing dirty things at a SCORPIA gala where Alex begs to be allowed to suck Yassen off and is denied?  
> Yes, that's what I mean!
> 
> Also, this is what Jones referred to as "The Glaive Incident" in chapter three! :D


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